Chapter Text
Vince moved with an easy competence in the kitchen, filling the pasta pot and setting it to boil. He found the microplane grater without asking where it was and quickly used it to turn part of the hard wedge of parm into a big cloud of fluffy white strands. He used Sam’s best chef’s knife to dice the bacon. He broke eggs into a cup, expertly separating the yolk out from two of them. How the hell was it such a turn on to see a man do all those ordinary things? It wasn’t like Sam didn’t separate dozens of eggs every day and yet it never occurred to him before that it could be sexy to see the way the white slipped away through Vince’s fingers leaving the rich orange globe of the yolk resting on his fingers for a moment before he transferred it to the cup with the other eggs. Or Vince washing his hands afterwards, the sleeves of his long t-shirt pushed up to his elbows, revealing the strong, corded muscles of his forearms. Fuck that was hot to see. It was tempting to tell him to forget the food and to push him bodily up against the cabinets and plunder his mouth. Sam found himself wondering what it would be like to kneel down and peel Vince out of his tight jeans and…
But Sam’s stomach grumbled, pushing him out of that mood momentarily.
As he worked, Vince talked about the houses he’d seen so far in Sioux Falls, especially the Rainbow House, the Victorian a few blocks from here that had been painted in rainbow stripes for decades. Since the early seventies apparently.
“It’d be weird to buy the Rainbow House,” Sam said. “Juanita taught us in fifth grade. Do you remember?”
“I remember Miss Juanita. She was the one that tried to talk Pops into getting me evaluated. Too bad he dug his heels in. I did get that done later. Turns out I’m not stupid; I’ve got dyslexia and ADHD,” Vince said as he started to fry up the diced bacon.
“I never thought you were,” Sam said. Vince probably would have failed a lot of classes except for Sam tutoring him, but you could tell how brilliant Vince was. One thing living with Dean had taught Sam was that the kind of conventional academic success that came easy to Sam and Adam wasn’t the only measure of intelligence. “The ADHD diagnosis isn’t a surprise. So, what is the Rainbow House like inside?”
“It smells like a head shop,” Vince said, stirring the cooking bacon on the stove top and damn did that smell incredible, like bacon always did. “Patchouli, incense and a lot of pot. It’s smaller than I want and it needs a lot of work, but it’s got a good vibe. I wanted to see the haunted mansion on Plymouth but the realtor wouldn’t show it to me. Said it was a money pit and haunted. For real. I suppose he’d know.”
Sam knew the place. It had been painted black once, but faded over the years to a nondescript gray. Probably hadn’t had a fresh coat of paint in all the years that Sam had lived in Sioux Falls. Nor had anyone lived in the place in that time. People came out and cut the lawns, did basic maintenance. Money pit Sam could believe. How haunted it really was, well, Sam would want to ask Bobby, see what he thought about it. It was truly dangerous, Bobby and Jody would have taken care of it already. They didn’t tolerate supernatural danger in their county.
“I’m pretty sure it just looks like the Addams family mansion,” Sam said. “That it isn’t actually haunted.”
“You should come house hunting with me,” Vince said, salting the pasta water. “Since we’ll be married soon, it’ll be your house too.”
“We’re getting married?” Sam asked. “Isn’t it a bit soon?”
“It’s long overdue,” Vince said as he dumped the whole box of spaghetti into the boiling pot. “Don’t you remember. I asked you to marry me and you said yes already. At Lake Weezy.”
The memory suddenly rose to the surface. At that little lake just outside Sioux Falls. It was more of a big pond than a lake and Lake Weezy wasn’t even the official name. In the middle of a hot summer day, they’d ridden bikes from Bobby’s house. Sam had turned twelve in May, Vince would be thirteen in a few days from then. There’d been a little convenience store close to the lake and Vince had gone in a bought them sodas and one of those candy ring pops. Vince had gone down on his knee right on hot asphalt of the parking lot and said, “You’re going to marry me, Sammy.”
“We’re too young, jerk,” Sam had said, though his tiny self had been filled with a fluttery joy as Vince had tried to shove the ring pop onto his finger. Even then it had been too small for his finger. “We’re not even old enough to be boyfriends yet.”
“We’re not getting married right now, dummy. We’ll get married when I’m twenty-eight and you’re twenty-seven,” Vince had said. Then he’d gotten back on his bike and started pedaling, the bag with the soda cans swinging from his handlebars, calling over his shoulder, “Last one in the lake is a rotten egg.”
Even though he’d gotten a head start, Vince had been the rotten egg that time. Sam might have been much shorter and riding a smaller bike, but he pedaled harder and faster. The candy part of the ring pop was long, long gone, but Sam still had the plastic part in the wood cigar box he kept all his little trinkets. It was upstairs now. He remembered being thirteen, before they really were boyfriends, when they were having a little spat about something stupid and not talking to each other, holding the still intact ring pop and making a wish with all his little teenage heart, that they really would get married when they were twenty-seven and twenty-eight. Somehow, it had seemed important to suck on the candy part until it was gone, so he had. What if it had worked for real? Hadn’t Rowena implied he had real power?
That plastic ring was one of the few real trinkets he had left from that time. It had seemed important to keep even when he got rid of the rest of it. As soon as Sam had gotten home from the hospital, he’d burned the big stuffed moose toy Vince had won for him at a carnival and most of the notes on lined notebook paper with all their garbled spellings and a bunch of the other stuff. Yeah, Vince having dyslexia tracked for sure.
“I never said yes,” Sam said. “Don’t you remember? You rode off on your bike before I could answer you.”
“I don’t remember that,” Vince said as he started whisking stuff into the eggs he’d cracked earlier. The grated cheese, then some of the bacon grease from the pan, some of the hot pasta water. “I swear you said yes.”
“I definitely didn’t,” Sam said.
“Huh. I swear you did,” Vince said. “Memory is a funny thing.”
Vince drained most, but not all of the bacon grease from the cooked bacon. He pulled a strand of spaghetti out of the pot with tongs. Broke it in half, then took a quick bite. Waited another moment and did it again. This time, he started moving the pasta directly from the water to the big skillet with the cooking bacon, tossing it around to absorb the grease. Everything went quickly from that point, Vince focusing on the pasta, pouring in the egg mixture, tossing it around, adding more, tossing more, until it was all coated and creamy looking. That was when Sam recalled the recipe Vince was making- Spaghetti Carbonara. Vince had found the salt and pepper grinder. Tasted one strand, added more salt and generous grinds of pepper. Only then did he carefully twirl the strands of pasta and plate them on one of the plain white, shallow bowls. Vince presented it to Sam, setting it on the same space on the table where the candle had sat burning the other night. It was a beautiful plating with perfect nests of wound up noodles, little white strands of cheese starting to melt into the glistening sauce. Little browned bits of bacon studded the yellow sauce, flecks of the pepper throughout.
Instead of getting himself a bowl, Vince waited, watching as Sam took the fork and wound the long pasta strands around it, then moved to his mouth. It melted as he chewed almost. The pasta still had just enough bite, but it all melded into a perfectly creamy rich mouthful.
“Oh, wow,” Sam said. “Wow.”
For a moment, he just focused on the pasta. It wasn’t something he would normally eat, not with the whole eggs with added egg yolks, and the bacon. The last time he’d eaten bacon was a couple years ago when Dean had pranked him and convinced him it was vegan bacon he was eating. But at this moment, it was everything he’d ever wanted to eat, filling the empty hole in his belly, satisfying him deeply. Right now, he didn’t care that Vince had gotten him to eat real bacon. Fork after fork of it went into his mouth and down his throat. Sam thought about getting to eat this pasta for the rest of his life, getting to see Vince make it for him. About buying a house together and setting up a life together. Vince seemed to be waiting for something. Some word.
“Yes,” Sam said.
“Yes?”
“All those years ago, you asked me to marry you and I never answered,” Sam said. “I’m answering now. Yes. We’re getting married.”
Vince was down on his knees, kneeling between Sam’s legs, in an instant and pulling Sam close. Their lips met. The pasta and everything else in the world was forgotten. Sam didn’t care that the kiss was awkward and kind of slobbery. Too much too fast or maybe not enough too late. Their bodies crashed into each other. The kiss was broken only long enough for Vince to pull Sam’s sweater off and toss it to the floor; for Sam to tug Vince’s black t-shirt off, exposing his whole torso including the heart tattoo on Vince’s chest. Like Sam had seen before, the ‘Luci’ had been crossed off and replaced with Vince, but the tattooist had somehow covered up the ‘my’ and the tattoo now just said ‘Sam’ and looked like it always had.
Sam broke his mouth away from Vince’s to nuzzle into the bare skin along Vince’s cheek down to his neck following the scent to where it was strongest. With every breath in of it, it was like something was waking up in Sam, something was growing stronger, more demanding. He wanted. Tonight was the first time he could remember wanting something. Someone. It felt like he could hardly breathe for the need growing inside him. Sam unbuttoned the shirt he’d worn under his sweater with Vince’s help. Some of the buttons popped off and skittered across the floor. He didn’t care. He’d retrieve them later. The shirt joined their other clothes on the floor and he was left wearing only his compressive top, the one that pushed his breasts flat and hidden. He broke away to pull it off, always an effort because of how tight it was. His breasts dropped down feeling free. His shoulders where the elastic edges bit in itched as they were released from compression but he ignored that.
“Fuck. You’re even more beautiful than I thought,” Vince said.
Sam grabbed the loops of Vince’s jeans and tugged, pulling Vince down as he collapsed himself onto the floor. Vince couldn’t help but follow him down. Willingly, even eagerly down to the floor. The next few minutes were filled with their moans and the scuffling sounds of them pulling off their last bits of clothing, interspersed with lips sucking on flesh. Vince’s chest might have had only the one tattoo, but his legs were covered from ankle to hips with colorful marks, no a planned, themed sleeve, but all kind of different pictures scattered up and down them. It was tempting to spend time looking at them, wondering what each meant, but there were other, more important things to look at right now. Like looking in Vince’s intense blue eyes which were bright and glistening with unshed tears.
“I don’t deserve this,” Vince said, even as Sam was grabbing him by the sides of his head so that he could pull them even closer for more kisses and trying to roll them so that Sam was on top. Sam couldn’t see Vince’s cock, but he could feel it hard, pressing against his hip, ready for him. “I never thought we could get here.”
“It’s never about what we deserve,” Sam said as he got Vince onto his back on the kitchen floor. “Maybe it’s just because little me saw something so good in you all those years ago that I never stopped seeing it, despite everything.”
He pressed him down with body weight, his legs framing Vince’s, chest pressed to chest. He wiped Vince’s tears away with a finger. He thought it would be awkward, two virgins fumbling around and not knowing what to do but he was surprised to find that even if he didn’t know what to do, his body did. His inner Omega had been waiting for this so long. As they kissed again, Sam’s hips moved up in time with Vince’s, lining up just right. The next moment, they slid together, Vince up, Sam down, and their bodies connected. Vince’s cock invaded or Sam surrounded him, who could really say. It was a little frightening because it was new and it didn’t feel like anything he’d ever felt before. He’d never been touched there before, not even by himself.
Vince’s hips stuttered and he grabbed Sam’s hips tightly, held him still.
“Uh. Uh,” Vince gasped. “Don’t want. Too soon.”
Sam held still when he understood that Vince had been about to come and didn’t want to, not yet. That he wanted to make their first time last longer than a few seconds. Sam could do that, even though he ached to start moving, to get friction going between them. He could feel his internal muscles squeeze and pulse involuntarily. It took all his effort not to start bouncing, to take what he wanted. Sam could wait. He’d waited for years already.
“I never stopped loving you,” Vince said. “I’ve wanted to do this with you for as long as I knew what sex was. Never with anyone else, just you.”
Vince’s arms wrapped around Sam’s chest, pulling him down so he could root with his nose at the curve of Sam’s neck. Vince’s teeth teased the mating gland, a gentle nibble followed by a soothing lick of the tongue. It was a tentative question. An electric shock of want and need spiked up and down Sam’s body just from the feel of that. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? The completion of the bond that had started when they were two pups growing up together. When they had become friends and more. When his young little heart had wished for it with a desperate yearning at twelve and at thirteen. At fourteen and fifteen. At every year even when thousands of miles had separated them. But Sam had to be sure Vince knew what he was getting into, what had really happened to bind them together.
“Do you remember that time when I was thirteen and we had that fight? We didn’t talk for weeks. I made a wish, on that ring pop that we would get married and mated when you were twenty eight and I was twenty seven. I think it worked. For real,” Sam said. “I don’t want. I mean, I want your bite more than anything but what if I trapped you?”