Prologue

"I swear Sam," a young man of about twenty three years old whined at his friend. "You're literally the lamest person I know! There's this sick party down at one of the pledge houses and you'd rather stay here and read?"

"That was kind of the plan from the start," Twenty one year old Sam Winchester replied to his friend, chuckling and flipping his shaggy bangs out of his eyes as he entered his dorm. He really needed a haircut, but he'd been neglecting it just like cleaning his dorm. Empty coffee cups and dirty clothes lined the dresser and floors. His bed was unmade and even a dirty sock hung from a lampshade. "I'm not really the party type."

"Yeah right," Sam's friend plopped down on his office chair on his side of the room and kicked his feet up on the desk nearby. "And I'm not Paul Wakefield."

"Last time I checked that was your name." Sam replied, hanging up his jacket and running a hand through his hair as he thought about all he needed to do before the next day even though it was Friday night.

"Thus," Paul shrugged even though his arms were behind his head. "Your argument is invalid Mr. Winchester."

Sam rolled his eyes. His best friend and roommate Paul Wakefield was quite the character sometimes. Paul was thin, but muscular and had the same figure as Sam even though according to Sam he ate "nothing but junk food and beer". He had short dirty blonde hair that was in a crew cut and piercing blue eyes that put the California waters to shame. He had a nice smile and a bit of stubble on his face. He was the type of guy that Hollister asked to model for them. He had the tan, the six pack of abs, and the charm that made girls drool and bat their lashes and guys jealous. He was suave and impulsive. Two things Sam was very used to living with Dean and his father for so long before coming to Stanford to study law. Paul was a self proclaimed party animal and was usually found entertaining anything with two legs. He was majoring in Acting and Theater and wore just the right amount of cologne.

Not that Sam paid too much attention to that.

"You know," Paul played with a bobble head of Einstein on his desk, he'd told Sam that it was a metaphor for the life Paul's father wanted him to pursue, but Paul flatly refused. "One day you're gonna get out of this death trap, we both are, and you're gonna regret not having a little fun."

"Oh really," Sam laughed, a smile spreading from ear to ear. "I'll gladly place a bet on that Paul, cuz honestly I'll be perfectly happy not partying."

"Prude," Paul joked and Sam flopped down into his desk chair. Paul powered up his computer and it slowly started. Once it did he flipped through a ton of emails before jumping up and running around the room like a maniac searching for something. "Sammy I hate to bug you, but I need some clothes."

"I happen to like the ones you have on right now fine." Sam joked, but in reality he'd leaked a bit of the truth into it. He did admire Paul's style and often found himself staring at what the man was wearing. He also didn't mind that he called him a by childhood nickname. It was very endearing when Paul said it.

"This is serious Winchester," Paul flipped up the comforter from the side of his bed and searched under it for socks. "I have an interview!"

"An interview," Sam inquired. "What for?"

"Why professional acting of course," Paul brought a hand to his chest and pretended to be snotty. "The theater Gods have called upon me to be their new king! Time is of the essence Sammy chop, chop find me a suit I know you own nicer clothes than me!"

"Left side of my closet," Sam instructed Paul and the man bolted over there throwing open the doors and carrying the suit over to his bed, lying it down like a newborn. He begun to unbuckle his belt. "Look man, I'm rooting for you I am, but some actors take forever to get noticed."

"Sammy Winchester," Paul stood in his boxers before removing his shirt too. "Why do you doubt me so? This is a step in the right direction. Look, I guarantee you in ten to fifteen years you're gonna see my name in lights. I'm gonna have the cushiest house in Hollywood by my standards, I'm gonna be eating gourmet Ramen noodles instead of those 99 cent ones!"

"Are those even a thing?" Sam asked letting out a nervous chuckle afterwards. Sam was not gay. Not by any means, but he had to admit now that he'd gotten away from his brother and father he'd begun to notice things. There weren't just monsters in his world now. There were actual real live people. He'd talked to loads of them male and female and Sam had to admit he'd checked out both. He chalked most of it up to the finale of his raging teenage hormones that was just left over, but the other half he couldn't quite explain. Paul was gorgeous that was something that even Sam couldn't deny, but even though he'd checked out the occasional guy before he'd never wanted to go any further with any of them. Paul made him want to and he didn't quite know why.

"Hell," Paul pulled on the pants and jumped around trying to get his other leg in the right side. "If they aren't I'll invent em!"

"You're a character you know that?" Sam turned his head to get a look at the man as he brushed his teeth in the bathroom faster than lightning.

"That's the goal," Paul spit out the toothpaste and gargled some water, a bit of it splashed on his shirt. He looked down at it and gave a look. "You don't think they'll notice that do you?"

Sam rolled his eyes and tried to keep the flush on his cheeks to a minimum when he laughed. Paul danced over to his ancient iPod shuffle and pressed play. He'd rigged up some sort of stereo system using speakers he'd brought from his home in Iowa. The iconic sound of Pat Benatar bled through them.

"We're running with the shadows of the night so baby take my hand it'll be alright!"

Paul sang along for a bit until he hit the next button and another ancient tune came on.

"Really," Sam asked. "Frankie Goes to Hollywood? You do know that this song is NOT about Frankie becoming famous right?"

"Every guy knows that Sammy," Paul was deciding between two ties and singing along to "Relax". "It gets me in the mood sometimes."

Sam blushed furiously, this time he couldn't help it. Paul had winked at him and everything. Sam swallowed hard and shifted on the bed crossing his legs and putting his hands down on his stomach.

"Geez," Paul laughed. "You're redder than a tomato. C'mon Sammy everybody does it!"

"I know but," Sam stammered.

"Not the subject you wanted to discuss with me I know," Paul flashed that smile and Sam felt like he was going to melt like butter on hot toast. Yeah, that'd be something licking hot butter off of Paul's...Sam shook his head out of those thoughts and simply nodded. "Well then I'll just change the tune."

Paul waltzed over to the iPod and changed the music again, this time to some slower song by a band Sam had never heard of. Paul loved his music, which was another thing Sam knew about him. Hell, if Sam made a list of all the things he knew about Paul he could fill an entire library.

"Well I really must go," Paul pulled on the jacket of the suit and turned to Sam as if presenting himself. "It's been fun Sammy, but fame awaits! I shall see your fabulous face later."

Paul exited the room faster than a jackrabbit. His whole body radiated the aura of excitement and Sam couldn't help but smile at his best friend's potential success. Sam's heart fluttered for a mere moment before he shook his head and laughed and turned to his computer. He had a paper due in three days.

-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-

Sam awoke with his head sprawled out on top of his arms at his desk. The alarm clock read eleven pm and he realized he'd been asleep for two hours since Paul left the dorm. He wiped his chin which had been smeared by drool and sniffed. He ran a hand through his hair before looking up at his computer screen and blinking through the brightness. He'd written three out of the six required paragraphs for the paper. That was good enough for the night. Sam smiled at his work and powered off the computer after saving it. He cocked his head at the reflection he saw behind him in the computer monitor and spun around.

Paul was standing in the doorway, but something was off. His usual carefree manor was missing. The man practically dragged himself into the dorm room and the smile he'd worn before his departure was long gone. His eyes were red around the edges and he tore the tie around his neck off and threw it to the ground. He kicked off the shoes and quickly discarded the suit. He let out a deep sigh.

"What happened?" Sam asked eagerly as he stood up.

Paul didn't answer at first. He calmly walked over to the ancient CD player that his parents had given him and popped in a disc of tunes that Sam recognized immediately. Paul always listened to the band Toad the Wet Sprocket when he was upset. The solemn sound of the first few notes of their song Something's Always Wrong played through the stereo's speakers and filled the silent air.

"I wasn't good enough," Paul almost whispered as he shut the door to their dorm room. "They said I wasn't the one. They interviewed me and everything Sammy. Who does that? Who builds up someone's hopes and then tears them away just like that?"

Sam could name at least one person in his life.

"Paul," Sam's voice was a bit shaky too. "I'm sorry."

"Don't say you're sorry," Paul sighed again and tears threatened to fall from his eyes as Sam guessed they had been before he'd arrived back from the interview. "It's not like you did this. I just wanted it so badly. You ever just want something so badly that you just feel like you can reach out and touch it?"

"All the damn time." Sam thought, referring to Paul himself among one million other things in his life.

"I thought I could touch this," Paul shook his head. "I was wrong. I was stupid to think I fucking could."

"Hey," Sam's look changed to determined. "Don't you dare say that. Don't you fucking dare! You're Paul Wakefield for God's sake. You can do anything! You are literally the greatest person I know."

"You're flattering Winchester," Paul said, refusing to look Sam in the eyes. "But I'm no hero. Can't even land a damn job..."

"Paul," Sam's face flushed again as he grabbed the man's cheeks with his hand and forced him up to his feet. "Shut up."

Sam kissed him, hard. He hadn't wanted anything like this until he'd met the man and even now it didn't feel real. Sam loosened his grip on Paul's face only when surprisingly he kissed Sam back. Paul seemed to certainly know what he was doing because Sam felt every little emotion Paul had in that moment in each of his kisses. Sadness, the kiss was slow and gentle, anger, it was rougher, lust. Lust was the best one of all. Eventually he broke the kiss though and stared up at Sam still staying close to him.

"How long?" Paul asked.

"Basically since I met you," Sam replied, feeling a bit bolder now that his affections had been graciously returned. "You don't...mind do you?"

"Hell no," Paul replied. "Took yah long enough to figure out what I'm into. But I didn't know you were..."

"I'm not," Sam protested, but then stopped. "I mean, I don't know if I am yet or not. I'm trying to figure that out."

"Well then," Paul smirked, some of his sarcastic and witty nature returning even though he'd been upset. "Let's see if I can't help you with that huh?"

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