Chapter Text
Sam Winchester never had many friends. And the ones he did, he preferred to keep close. Friends were a part of everyone's life, and he didn't want to be an exception. After all, who wouldn't want to feel normal?
Less of a mistake?
Less of a freak?
That was one of the many reasons Sam ran away from his family once he turned 18, leaving his father and brother behind in hopes to start a new life at college. And Sam, thanks to his dilligence and determination, did get in, managed to get accepted to Stanford of all places, and even received a full scholarship. Normal family would be cheering for him. They would be glad. Excited. Proud.
That would never be the case in the household Sam Winchester was raised in.
If he ever wanted to live by his rules, Sam had to leave the screaming and shouting behind and never look back. But he loved his family – God, he did, with all of his heart. Despite them getting angry at the news, his father yelling at him to never come back, his brother frowning silently, his eyes full of betrayal and hurt.
But was it really a crime? Was it that strange for him to want something simple, like becoming a lawyer, like wanting to hold a pen in his right hand instead of a gun?
Didn't he get to choose what was best for him?
Sam picked Stanford along with independence – and that, for once in his life, felt right. Because here, surrounded by a few friends, he could finally pretend that's all he was. A normal college kid.
A kid who deserved to figure his life out by himself.
***
Library was one of Sam's favourite places on campus – it was quiet, calm, and there were a lot of chunky pieces of literature he would rather read there than bring back all the way to his dorm.
Well, it was usually quiet.
On the rare occasions he and all three of his friends were there, it was anything but. Colin and Finn, two sophomore students living in the dorm room next door, were welcoming enough to let Sam and Brady join their circle – though the duo was quite rowdy. Brady, his roommate, was a pre-med student. He, on the contrary, was shy and polite, as dilligent and determined as Sam himself.
It was nice with just two of them.
But when Colin and Finn would occasionally drop by and sit around the books, they would quickly get bored out of their wits, starting to laugh and talk – and then proceed to get smacked with a book or anything else the librarian, Mrs. Kim, had on her hands at that particular moment.
Today the two were out partying, having left Tyson and Sam to struggle under academic pressure... Or so one would think. No, Colin tried to invite both of them, but the freshmen shook their heads, adamantly refusing to go. "Very well then," Colin sighed, somewhat upset. "But you're going to the next one – and no buts, Winchester!" Colin pointed his finger as Sam opened his mouth. Sam closed it, and Colin grinned. "Ciao, nerds!"
And there they were now: stuck at the library at seven in the evening. Most of the students went to the party, so there were no more than ten people apart from them – other freshmen, hit with a shitload of homework and suffering from sleep deprivation.
Tyson Brady was exactly the same.
"This stuff is killing me!" Sam's roommate whined after a while, hunched over a book, shaking his hand after taking notes non-stop for more than an hour. "It's been what, a month? I can already feel myself losing the will to live. Can you imagine four more years of that? And then actual med school?"
Sam looked up from his own book and glanced over at the blonde guy. The smile immediately lit up Sam's face. "Look, Ty... You're the one who picked pre-med! You've made your own bed!"
"Yeah, yeah, now I gotta lie in it..." Brady leaned back on the chair, rolling his eyes, then turning his attention back at his friend. "Speaking of beds... God, why can't we take this stuff back to our room?"
"Because," Sam replied, with the dimples still there on his face, "you'll never be able to focus. We tried that once, remember what happened?"
"Not really. I blacked out and never read a thing. And I might've drooled over the anatomy book. Maybe." Sam raised an eyebrow in question, as if that wasn't exactly what happened and they both knew that.
"Yeah, Brady, that's the whole point – you will fall asleep. So, come on! Read up and take your notes."
"Ugh. Okay, mom!" Tyson exclaimed, grabbing his pen.
Sam looked up at his friend with the most serious bitchface he could muster. Brady grinned and pressed a knuckle towards Sam's shoulder. "Well, you sound like one!"
"I do not!" Sam retorted, trying his best to stay serious. "I simply care that you study. What if one day you'll have to operate on me?! I have to trust you know what you're doing."
"Oh, and if I mess up? Are you gonna sue me, lawyer-boy?" Brady teased, twirling the pen in his hand.
"Not if you keep distracting me," Sam grinned. "So, please, we both need to concentrate."
"Alright," Brady caved. "Let's have it your way. Want to grab a bite at CoHo once we're done?"
"Sure," Sam replied and buried his face into the book.
If Sam was honest with himself, he'd say that he also wanted to get back to his room. And maybe he would gladly go to that party too. Surely, Ford and Colin were way too loud and outgoing to be his kind of crowd – but what if he was right where he was supposed to?
Sam never had friends that cared for him, who invited him to hang out, to party, who genuinely enjoyed his company. And, what's more, he never had anyone respect his choice to say "No." Sure, Colin was upset, but he understood. And that gesture alone showed more courtesy than his family had ever shown him.
Truly, it was nice to have friends like these. Sam looked up from his book to take a look at his other friend – the one who stayed with him, who was right here, dilligently writing his notes and hiding his face under that blonde head of hair.
It was just as nice to have a friend like Brady.
***
October of 2002 hit so quickly, that Sam barely noticed. Buried in books and extensive notes, the teen now had a collection of chewed up pens and pencils piling up on his table. Brady, witnessing the mess firsthand, would sometimes take his eyes off the book and point it out aloud – saying that "pencil diet" was not sufficient for a big guy like him. Sam would agree, laugh it off and they would order takeout.
What Sam was too busy to notice, though, was his roommate looking fondly at him, glancing up and down his books more often than he should, his Latin homework long forgotten in the presence of Sam Winchester.
Tyson's blue eyes would first settle on Sam's floppy hair; then his concentrated face; his smile and dimples, appearing when Brady made a joke; his fingers slowly turning over the pages; Sam's wide back and shoulders when he'd turn around to change his clothes...
But Ty and Sam were just friends, and crossing that line would ruin everything they've already had. Because how do you tell your roommate "I like you and stare at you all the time" without achieving nothing besides scaring said roommate off? More so, as far as Brady was concerned, Sam was straight – and the young pre-med student would just have to make peace with that.
His heart, however, disagreed.
"Hey," Brady called his friend up. "It's our turn to order. What should I get you?"
"Flat white, one sugar," Sam replied, and Brady frowned, clearly judging the answer. "And what are you getting?" Sam asked the guy.
"Guess, genius!" Brady beamed and turned to the barista, a blonde girl from sophomore year, named Louise. The black apron, paired with a red shirt underneath, was making her brown eyes stand out, but looking at her Tyson could see she was tired. No wonder – anyone would be, especially so late.
"Hey, beautiful! You look nice today," He started, offering a smile and trying to brighten up the girl's mood. "Can I get a cappucino with salted caramel syrup and a dash of cinnamon?... And a flat white with one sugar for Mr. Boring here," he gestured towards Sam standing behind him. Tyson could hear Sam whispering "Dude!" but pretended not to hear a thing.
Louise's eyes softened at the compliment, which she followed with "Okay, guys. Coming right up." When the girl left to steam the milk, Brady could feel Sam shifting behind him from side to side. Was he feeling... uncomfortable?
"Ty! Sam! Here are your drinks," Louise said as she put the beverages on the counter. "That will be $5,50. Anything else?"
"No, thank you. Have a nice evening, Louise!" Tyson waved and pushed the door open. Sam followed with a quiet "Bye, Louise," and awkwardly followed after his roommate. Tyson went ahead, only to realize there was no Sam behind him. And just as Brady turned around to look at his friend, still standing under the CoHo sign, something in his mind clicked.
That 'something' Brady would choose to ignore.
"Sam? Is everything alright?"
"Yeah, it's just... Ah, nothing, honestly. Let's take a walk?"
"Well, okay," Brady sighed, strolling down the street and taking a sip of his coffee. He hummed approvingly, smiling in pleasure. "Man, that is good. No wonder CoHo is my favourife café on campus!"
"Yeah, it's decent," Sam replied dryly.
"That's because you order boring people coffee. If I were to guess who you were solely based on your order, I'd say you were a 35-year-old accountant! Flat with one sugar... boooring."
"Yeah? Well, then I would guess you're a 16-year-old girl addicted to sugar who, in fact, hates coffee, and pretends to like it by drinking sugar in a cup!"
"Wow, rude." Brady made a sad face. "Try it, then! It's tasty. Come on. Do it!" He put the beverage in front of his friend's nose.
"Alright," Sam caved and took a sip out of Tyson's cup. "Okay... I admit, I was wrong. You win."
"Told ya!" Tyson lit up as he spoke. They walked further down the park, with Brady looking at his coffee, suddenly very aware of the fact that Sam's lips touched this lid. His mind went quiet, until the teen was suddenly put out of his haze after eventually focusing back on Sam's voice.
"...And then he dares to come up to me and beg for my notes. What an asshole."
"Who?" Brady asked, trying to insert himself back into the conversation.
"Joseph, the rich guy, remember?" Sam clarified. "The one who made fun of my clothes during our first week. He was slacking in class for a while and is now asking for my notes of all people."
"Well, yeah. Asshole," Tyson agreed with Sam and absentmindedly took a sip of coffee, just to panic internally again because Sam's lips were there.
He was an adult for God's sake, why would he freak out over someone else's lips touching a lid?
"It's a nice evening," Brady said, trying his best to sound casual. "A lot of... lights. It's beautiful. Uh... Don't you think?"
"Yeah. Hey– Ty, you wanna sit?" Sam asked, pointing to a bench. Brady agreed and they both sat down, watching other students walk past them. Tyson looked over at his friend, just to see one of his legs shake nervously.
The uncomfortable silence between them was palpable, and Brady had a feeling he knew what it was about.
"Does Louise also call you Ty?" Sam asked, his leg twitching a little more.
"Yeah? I mean, I guess she does. I know, not a lot of people do, because I prefer to be called Brady, but once during the busy hour I asked her to write 'Ty' on my cup. So it stuck, I think."
"Well, okay," Sam stopped shaking, instead putting his head down, looking intently at his legs. "I can understand that."
"Why do you ask about Louise?" Brady asked, pretty sure he already knew the answer. Sam was jealous, and it made Tyson feel uneasy.
"No reason. It's just... you called her beautiful. Complimented her outfit. So I thought–"
"Oh, no, I was just trying to cheer her up. It's been a long day, and she needed that."
"True. But, for what it's worth, you two would make a cute couple." Sam looked into Tyson's eyes, and he could see that his friend was sincere. But Sam was still upset over something – that much was evident.
"Well, I don't know, really," Tyson shrugged. "I don't have time for this romance stuff anyways. Wait, do you like her?" Brady asked, testing the waters by asking his friend about this girl. 'Please, say no, please say no,' Brady thought, preparing himself for the worst.
"No, I don't," Sam answered, though his cheeks were getting pink. "There's this– uh– other girl I really like."
"Oh," Brady smiled. "Okay, Romeo. Good for you."
They stood up, and walked back to their dorm. Tyson went to the shared kitchen, trying to heat up some of the leftover pizza. Sam said he wasn't hungry, and headed straight to bed.
Looking at the pieces on his plate, Ty realized he wasn't hungry either. He stared at the two sad pieces of pepperoni, replaying the conversation he just had with his crush.
'There's a girl he already likes. A girl. You will never stand a chance.'
And he knew that to be true, ever since they'd met. But does it really matter, when your heart is yearning, begging, crying for one person?
When all your heart wants is love?...
***
"Hey, you guys finally made it!" Finn exclaimed, Colin close behind him.
"Tyson, great fit!" the other sophomore grinned, looking at the teen dressed in white shirt under a zipped dark green jacket and pants of the same colour with the American flag on his sleeve. "You're supposed to be Tom Cruise or Val Kilmer?"
"Well, my hair's blonde, so Val Kilmer, I guess. Although I'm more of a Tom Cruise fan," Tyson shrugged.
"Okay, that's cool! And, Sam? where's your Halloween costume?" Colin questioned his other friend.
"Well, I don't–" Winchester started, scratching the back of his head. "I don't really like the holiday. Don't see the appeal." Sam was wearing a red flannel over his black shirt, the jeans loose on his legs. Colin and Finn smiled, both looking at Sam's 'I'm sorry to be a party pooper' expression.
"Well, we could tell everybody you're dressed as a lumberjack!" Finn reassured Sam. "You're fine, come on," he gestured, inviting them both in.
The party, obviously, was a big deal. Halloween decorations everywhere, loud music, people hanging out on the chairs, moved aside to turn the familiar campus hall into the dance floor. The beats were catchy, and Sam started nodding along to the sound of music. He took a look at Brady, who went over to greet his classmates. Some of their faces were familar to him – there were Pete, Oliver and Jessica. The other two girls he had seen as well, but didn't know their names.
Sam went over to the table with the drinks, looking at Colin pouring himself a cup. Sam got up close to see that the "drink" was definitely not soda. It was a punch – brandy, some juice and sugar, slices of lemon floating around. Sam poured himself a cup and watched Brady from afar.
He looked gorgeous in that costume, of course.
Way hotter than Tom Cruise and Val Kilmer combined. But wasn't his choice of costume saying something? As far as Sam was concerned, 'Top Gun' was a story full of subtext, of yearning between the two men – those who were, supposedly, friends.
But maybe Sam read too much into it. Maybe it was dumb and extremely stupid, to look at your friend's costume and hope it meant he was gay or anything else besides being a simple outfit.
Okay, that was definitely stupid. And Sam was the biggest idiot on the planet Earth.
Tyson Brady would say the same thing about Sam Winchester – albeit for the completely opposite reason. When Brady first pitched the costume idea to his roommate, the only thing he said was "Yeah. Cool." Like, was Sam serious?
Tyson hoped Sam could've said at least something, like "Aren't the guys in Top Gun gay?" after which he would reply with "Yeah, that's the whole point."
Bringing up the topic of his preferences was never easy, and he had never told anyone the whole truth before. He replayed 'the costume conversation' in his head a lot more than any sane person should, and never thought it would start and end with "Yeah, cool."
Well, at least that had proven Sam was straight.
Brady came up to his roommate, drinking the punch out of a red plastic cup. "Is it any good?" he asked, picking up one from the stack of clean ones.
"It tastes horrible," Sam said, his voice louder due to the music around them. "But it's good if you're planning on getting drunk."
"Well, perfect," Brady yelled back. "That's what we came here for, right?"
"We? Ty, you begged me to come here with you!" Sam exclaimed. "I would rather stay in our room."
"Yeah, well," Tyson grinned mischievously. "Don't you like it when I beg you to come?"
Even under the low lights Brady could see Sam's cheeks get red.
"I– uh... Shit– I think I need to say hello to someone. I'll be back." Sam left Tyson in a rush, running from him like the table around them just caught fire.
"Fuck," Brady muttered under his breath, his eyes suddenly getting watery. Was this silly joke that bad? Had he made Sam uncomfortable? How was he supposed to go back to his dorm after this? How would they...
Tyson got lost in thought, processing it, looking at the crowd that was dancing and talking all around the hall. There was no point to go looking for Sam – that would just embarrass him more. Brady downed one cup of the punch, then the second, after that – the third. Later, just as he was pouring his fourth, Tyson noticed a familiar face.
A blonde girl, brown eyes, plump lips and a cat costume – black skinny jeans, black shirt, leather jacket, and, of course, cat ears. There were black whiskers drawn on her face, and the whole outfit was indeed very cute.
Louise.
"Hey, Ty," she said, coming over to the table with the drinks. "How's the party? Doing good?"
Brady smiled, pouring her a cup of punch too. "It just got better once I saw you coming over," he said and looked into her dark eyes. She was happy to see him as well, he could tell as much.
"Oh, really?" The girl beamed. "You look nice too. Do you, uh... have a date with you today?" she added, tucking her hair behind the ear.
"No, I don't. You?" Tyson raised an eyebrow, waiting for the response.
"Me neither," Louise sighed. "I used to have a boyfriend during my freshman year – we broke up, it was messy. He was a popular guy, too. Told his friends I was a slut, a whore, a bitch, and so... You and other first-year guys are the only ones treating me decently."
"Seriously? Tell me who the guy is!" Brady frowned, suddenly getting angry. "I'm going to beat his ass. You're a good person! You're nice, and kind, and polite– and you're pretty!" He yelled over the music, ready to fight the man.
"You think I'm pretty?" Louise asked, blushing and hiding her eyes.
That's when Tyson felt his brain shut down, realizing he was about to do something he could regret later. Because he said the truth – Louise was very pretty, in fact, she was extremely beautiful. And he liked girls just as much as boys, so him noticing her wasn't anything strange.
And, with all that flirting back and forth, with her eyes on him, with them talking at least twice a week when he was getting coffee – what was stopping him?
Or, rather, who?...
"Louise," Brady started, "I'm very drunk and I don't know what I'm doing, but just know you're one of the prettiest girls I've met," he saw her eyes light up as he spoke. "Can I– Can I kiss you?"
Louise nodded and whispered something, but Brady was too drunk to hear the exact words. He pressed his lips to hers, kissing her gently. Tyson placed his hand on her waist, pressing her closer. He then took her hand and sat on the chair, gesturing for her to sit on his lap.
Oh, Tyson liked her lips on his.
She smelled like coffee and tasted like cherry, her touch soft as she put both her hands on the sides of his jaw. Brady leaned into it, closing his eyes and finally feeling at peace.
Until the somewhat sober part of his brain whispered: 'Sam... You like Louise, but she's not Sam.'
Tyson pushed that thought away, because he knew that him and Sam was a fantasy – nothing more. If he wanted to keep the friendship going, he had to get over it – and this was a damn good way to go.
Sam had already said he had a girl he liked. Brady did, too – he was kissing her right now. Besides, Sam himself said they would look good together.
So was it wrong for him to enjoy her embrace?
All while Sam just stood there, watching.
He left Tyson in a hurry, his cheeks burning, trying to calm his nerves down. Making this sort of joke could not have been just a joke – or could it?
Sam spent almost an hour thinking, pacing in the corridor back and forth, trying to make sense of it. Of course, there was no girl – Sam freaked out that October evening, too scared to say "Oh, I have a crush on a guy, and it's you."
Because it was Brady. Brady was 'the girl'.
And now the pieces were slowly coming together. The times they shared those uncomfortable looks, the movies they'd watch and laugh about it together, that one time last week Brady almost fell asleep on Sam's lap – and then this stupid costume and dirty jokes.
Why can't he just ask Brady? What he's feeling, what's on his mind? What's stopping Sam from trying, at the very least?
So, Sam Winchester, determined as ever, collected himself and went into the ball room, walking, no – running to the place where he left his best friend, afraid he might get cold feet if he stopped.
And that's when he saw them.
Louise was sitting on Brady's lap while he kissed her, his eyes closed, as he was clearly enjoying the moment. Sam couldn't bear to watch this happen in front of him, but he also couldn't run away.
Frozen in place, Sam stood, his knees trembling. His breathing got faster, and his vision blurred, the tears welling up from the corners of his eyes.
A hundred different hunts, scars, injuries – some of which were so bad Dean had to sew his skin back together. And yet, this pain he felt was like nothing Sam had experienced before.
He was a fool to think Brady was anything more than a friend. He was an idiot to believe, even for a minute, that someone could love him back.
Sam pressed his hand to his chest, feeling sharp pain just where his heart was.
He never knew heartbreak could feel so literal.
After getting a hold of his legs, Sam ran away. He closed the door behind him, and ran back through the campus, until he reached the safety of his room.
Of both his and Tyson's room.
Sam plunged face down into the pillow, not bothering to hold the tears back anymore. Because, upon Brady's return, Sam had to pretend he was fine with him and Louise. He was okay. And he knew he would be, eventually, because Brady was his best friend.
And, his heart be damned, if it was going to ruin everything.
He would smile through the pain.
And move on.