#''He had a thousand excuses. I had one goal.'' (c) Cross (rest his soul) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

butiaintgonnaloveem · 7 years

Text

That Special Someone

Characters/Pairing: Sam x Reader (platonic) and others.

Word Count: 3200

Warnings: Language, drinking, Stanford!Sam feels, fluff and silliness

A/N: This fic was written for 2 challenges I signed up for: @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog‘s Trope Challenge for which I had “Everyone thinks we’re together, but we’re not god damn it!” and @babypieandwhiskey‘s Cam’s Darndest Things Challenge for which I had “You can’t just go up to people and ask if they have a penis.” @idreamofhazel was kind enough to beta read this for me.(Are you aware of how sweet and supportive she is, btw?) So, I hope you enjoy it, and please feel free to provide some feedback. I love it!

(Yeah, I know that’s Dean, but let’s pretend it’s Stanford!Sam because I love that gif. Ok? Ok.)

ITALICS = Present Day, REGULAR TYPE = Flashback

The question had been asked a thousand different times, in as many different ways. Sometimes direct, sometimes with a suggestive glance, sometimes it was thrown your way as an accusation. It was equal parts laughable, frustrating, and worrying.

“So, you two are a thing, right?”

Throughout the seas of people, you two managed to find each other. One of those perfect, once-in-a-lifetime chance meetings that made your life better from that point forward. It wasn’t long after your mother had unceremoniously dropped you off at your dorm. Setting down your suitcases, she glanced around the room with a sneer.

“Well, good luck.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, playing with the hem of your shirt.

She took off down the hall, not looking back as she maneuvered around other parents and students dragging possessions behind them. Your eyes had watered, but you didn’t spare a tear for her. If nothing else, you were grateful for the quick exit and the sudden start to your new life, completely on your own at Stanford.

Groups of uncertain-looking teenagers gathered around, searching for the numbers that matched their assignments for freshman orientation. Finding your group, you sat on a bench, waiting for the rest to gather. You kept your eyes down as your foot tapped impatiently on the sidewalk listening to tearful goodbyes shared by other students and families until a shaky voice interrupted you.

“Hey, is this Group C?” You shot up a quick glance, finding the speaker to be tall and lean with long hair that hung by his eyes.

“Yeah,” you answered with a shrug of a smile.

“Mind if I sit with you?”

“Uhhm, sure.” You scooted over, folding your arms over yourself, trying to allow as much personal space as possible. For a while, you sat together quietly, scanning the crowds and giving each other apologetic smiles when you’d catch the other’s glance.

“I’m Sam, by the way. In-In case you were wondering.”

“Y/n,” you responded, holding out your hand to shake his, then letting the sound of the crowds settle over you again.

“I don’t know anyone here,” he said, breaking through the noise again, a curious expression on his face. It wasn’t sadness, or fear. He almost had looked relieved.

“Me neither,” you nodded. A little hope bubbled in your chest that you had made the right decision. He smiled at you kindly, mouth opening to speak but before he could, he was interrupted by your orientation guide. The rest of the afternoon was spent playing ice-breaker games and writing down goals for the semester, tours of buildings and tips for not getting robbed by the bookstore. You had found 2 other girls in your group that lived in your dorm, and at the end of the day you wished Sam luck with a grateful smile.

“See ya around,” he responded, though he looked like he doubted his own words.

“Who? You mean me and Sam?” you ask with a polite smile as your eyes search for him across the room, trying to find the top of his head above all the others. You draw in a deep breath when you find him, trying to not roll your eyes. He’s talking with one of the TA’s, undoubtedly grilling him about the papers due for the end of the semester.

Weeks went by and you had kept yourself busy trying to get in the routine of things at the university. You had found a couple of other girls down the hall that you connected with, sometimes you shared meals or listened to music together, but it was still mostly awkward stories and getting to know each other.

“Hey, my friend Audrey says they found a creepy hallway in the basement of her dorm. We’re gonna go explore it, wanna come with?”

“Sure, how about I meet you there in just a little bit?” you assured her, eager to get away from your philosophy books.

Your friend nodded and took off. After quickly finishing your chapter and shoving the rest of your work out of the way, you trudged across the campus to the other dorm, and tried to remember how to get to Audrey’s room. Initially, going down the wrong hallway, you reached the end without recognizing any of the doors. On your return trip you noticed a door half open and knocked shyly to ask for help.

“Hey, excuse me, do you know where - Oh. Hey, um, Sam right?” you asked, recognizing the boy from your first day on campus.

His head whipped up at your voice, surprised, but not really alarmed. “Yeah, hey, Y/n,” he answered without hesitation. “How’s everything going?”

You leaned onto the doorframe. “Good, so far I guess. Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know someone named Audrey, would you?”

His eyebrows lifted as his mouth settled into a thoughtful frown. “Audrey? Ah, no, sorry.”

“Shit, I’m so lost. They probably already took off without me. You don’t wanna come help me find them, do you?”

“I would, but, um, I really should keep studying here,” he emphasized his response with a pen tap to his book.

You crossed your arms. “How long’s it been since your last study break?” He pushed back his hair, humming while he thought. “Okay, if you can’t remember then it’s been too long. Come on, Sam.”

“That’s really nice and I appreciate it, but, I can’t. If I let my grades drop, I risk losing my scholarship and then-”

“Whoa, hey, slow down. I’m sure you’re going to be fine. Just a little break, I promise.” You smiled.

“No, you and Professor Crawford. Of course I mean you and Sam!”

You draw in a breath, ready to give what’s become your practiced response to the question. Ready to defend the time you spend together, the affection you two display for each other, the times you’ve cried on each other’s shoulders and played wingman for a night.

“Here’s the thing about me and Sam…”

You and Sam were curled up together on the recliner in his room. A thick blanket covered the two of you as he sprawled out behind you and you laid across him. You were both half watching the television, some reality show neither of you cared about, while the other half of your attention was focused on books for your classes.

After that night you had gotten lost in the dorms, you two were constantly around each other. Study sessions, binging on pizzas, finding different on-campus activities and groups. You both just clicked and fell into an easy routine, finding a best friend in him quickly. You found comfort in each other that neither of you seemed to know you needed.

“Okay, great, I got it,” Sam’s roommate Brady called out, stepping in front of the tv to stop the ringing that neither you or Sam had noticed. “Hello? Uh, yeah, hang on...It’s for you.” He gestured the phone’s receiver your way.

“Oh, shit, sorry.” You sheepishly apologized, but it wasn’t the first time it had happened. Since you and Sam spent so much time together, your friends had taken to calling his room to find you. Sam didn’t mind, but it annoyed Brady to no end.

Your friend nearly squealed when you got on the line, shouting something at you about a party the baseball team was throwing and how you and Sam needed to be there because, as she put it, “You might be immune to that hotness, but don’t keep that eye candy all to yourself.”

You shot a glance at Sam, catching a thoughtful expression on his face as he kept it buried in his linguistics book. It wasn’t as though you hadn’t known how attractive he was. You were aware that he was toned and muscular, and that he had that shaggy, messy hair that made girls’ fingers twitch with want to play with it. You’d spent enough time staring into his eyes to know that they likely had the ability to look right into your soul, but that they were offset easily by his wide, boyish smile. You were completely aware of all those characteristics, and then some. They just never sparked anything for you.

“Maybe. Okay? Maybe. I’ll let you know.” You did your best to placate her before hanging up and turning to Sam with an apologetically hopeful expression.

“Nope. Nope. Y/n, for once I am not going to fall for this. For almost two years now, I’ve gone along with your ‘Just a little break, I promise’ craziness. You always drag me along and it turns into a thing. I actually have to study, believe it or not!”

You kept your face neutral as Sam gave you his usual response and excuses for avoiding social events.

“I know, Sam. And because you’re some kind of genius, you’ve managed to still pass all your classes and have an insanely high GPA, even with all my craziness. So, are you done fighting me on this? You know you love it.” You glanced around for the picture that always worked to your advantage. It was of the two of you at a theme park, sharing a meaty drumstick the size of your head. You found it on the corkboard and plucked it off to hold it in his face.

“See? You have the best times with me. Remember ‘Turkey Leg’?” you asked smugly, waving the photo back and forth.

“Don’t you dare use ‘Turkey Leg’ against me.” He shook his head adamantly.

“But Sam, it’s study break time,” you pouted.

He smiled, showing off his big, toothy grin. “Fine, just a little break.”

“We met, literally on our first day here. We were both totally alone, escaping for fresh starts. His story is his and it’s really not my place to share it, but I’ve never met a person who is more understanding and thoughtful, and I am so grateful for him as a friend. That’s it, just as a friend. I don’t know if I’ve ever met a better person.”

She looks at you, giving you that look. The one that silently accused you of loving him and made you laugh.

“Okay, yes, for a minute I thought about us getting together, but trust me. It’s a thought that’s thankfully in the past.”

You and Sam stayed together during holidays and school breaks. It was the summer between your second and third years when you sublet an off-campus apartment together. A few other friends also stuck around, having found jobs nearby and taking summer courses. Sam was off at the library when your friend, Rose, arrived. One of a handful of people from home you stayed in touch with, and one of your best friends, she came to stay with you for the weekend.

“So. This is where you’ve been hiding? It’s great!” She dropped her bags and quickly scanned all the rooms. “Where’s the boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend? Who? Sam!? First off, he’s not my boyfriend, and second, he’s not here right now.”

“Okay, well, that’s bullshit, but good. Because I am ready to drink and hear more gossip about him and convince you that you belong together.” She went to her bag and retrieved a bottle of rum. You opened your mouth to protest, but she ignored you, pouring a pair of strong drinks for the two of you before pulling you to the couch. It didn’t take long for the warmth of the alcohol to pull a blush into your cheeks and make your mind work a little slower than usual. The two of you settled onto the couch, catching up and telling stories.

“Y/n, for the past two years, I’ve heard about nothing but Sam. Hell, even I’ve had some dreams about him just based on what you’ve told me. He’s perfect for you and cares about you. I mean, he makes you feel good. Like, have you ever met someone that made you feel the way he does? Is there anyone else you spend as much time with as you do with him? Plus, he’s hot, right? What’s the problem?”

It made you wonder. You’d heard similar arguments before. Not even Rose knew some of the things Sam knew about you. Her drunk logic was making you rethink moment after moment.

“...I’m just saying, you should tell him you love him before you lose your chance.” You frowned at the idea of it and downed a shot.

Later that night, Sam pushed through the crowded yard, smiling as he passed some other friends. Your eyes locked onto him, watching him with droopy eyelids through a blurry haze. Rose had spent the whole afternoon drinking with you and convincing you that you were in love with Sam, and now a voice somewhere inside your mind started yelling in agreement. ‘Yeah. What the Hell. How could he not love me, I totally love him. Why shouldn’t he be my boyfriend?’

He rushed to you once he caught sight of you and wrapped you up in a huge hug. Rose watched from the side, eyes squinted in drunk scrutiny while you tried to catch your breath.

“Sam, Rose. Rose, Sam,” you waved your hand between them.

He smiled widely at her, genuinely happy to meet someone else who was so important to you, but she scowled at him.

“Sam, do you actually have a dick, or do you just act like one?” she slurred.

His head jerked back, caught in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“Do. You. Have. A. Penis?”

You were equal parts shocked and amused and unsuccessfully tried to stifle a hiccuping giggle.

“Oh, my g - Rose! You can’t just go up to people and ask if they have a penis!”

“I can and I did,” she snarked and crossed her arms, making you giggle all over again.

Sam looked put off, but went with it. “Well, okay. Yeah, last time I checked, I’ve got one.”

Rose’s hands flew up in exasperation, “Then why haven’t you given it to her?” She pointed at you. “She is my best friend and she deserves it and she wants it. Like. Bad.”

Your mouth fell open. You heard Sam make a strangled noise in his throat. You whipped your head in his direction faster than you should have, making you wobble on unsteady legs. The alcohol buzzed through your system, and made everything spin. You looked at Sam, blinking away the double-vision and tried to focus on his worried, sad expression. It took a minute for your brain to catch up and comprehend what you were seeing, but in a blissful - yet painful - moment of clarity, it hit you. No. You loved Sam, but he was your friend, and he was looking at you like you’d grown another head.

Tears immediately began to spill down your cheeks, your cries exaggerated by your drunken state as you started to ramble.

“Noo. Oh, no. Sam. No. You’re my friend. I don’t want your dick. You keep it. You’re my best friend. This is stupid. Oh, no, this is fucked up. I fucked up.Sam, please be my friend. Please…”

You slurred and whined and cried, making a small scene in the corner of the yard. Sam didn’t move right away, caught somewhere among shock and amusement and second-hand embarrassment. But when your sobs started to make you choke, he quickly swooped in, wrapped you in a hug and let you wipe your face on his shirt. He shushed you and tried to get you to calm down, assuring you he wasn’t going anywhere.

“I don’t feel good,” you moaned, as you felt your stomach turning sour.

“Alright darlin’, let’s get you home.” Rose was blissfully drunk and unaware of what was happening, but went along gladly when Sam wrapped his arms over both of you and guided the two of you out of the yard and back to your apartment. Then, when you were knelt in front of the toilet, he held back your hair and listened as you explained what happened in the afternoon and complained about how terrible your drinks tasted coming back up.

You woke up the next morning, eyes puffy, your body groggy and achy, but warm as you were snuggled against Sam.

“Hey, how ya doin’ hot shot?” Sam whispered, careful not to aggravate your pounding headache.

“Hnnn, oh no,” you groaned. “God, I feel terrible.” Though the memories were fuzzy and short, you remembered of what had happened and groaned again, hiding your face in his shoulder. “God, Sam, I am so so sorry.”

“Hey, no, really, it’s okay. I get it. You really don’t need to be upset. Okay? Honestly, I kinda thought about it before, too.”

You peeked at him through one barely open eye. “Really?”

He chuckled, “Well, yeah. Of course. There’s no real reason for us to not be together. You’re amazing, and smart, and patient, and so pretty and we just click, but, I don’t know. It’s just...not like that.”

“Yeah, exactly,” you sighed in relief. “You’re my best friend, Sam.”

“So you told me. Like, a thousand times last night.”

“Okay, well, I just really wanted you to know.”

“You know what else you told me?” he asked, his voice strained a little as he held back laughter.

“Oh, no. What?”

“That my dick is a gift and I should give it to someone special.”

“Oh, fuck. No. I’m so sorry.” You both broke out into giggles. “Please forget that part.”

“Never.”

“I just, I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, you know?” she nervously assures you.

“Trust me, you’re not. Sam is an amazing guy. And if he’d ever stop harassing the stupid TA over there, you’d finally get a chance to talk to him.”

“I just really don’t want to feel like I am coming between the two of you,” she mumbles with a furrowed brow.

“Never. Trust me, please? He truly is my best friend, and as his best friend, I give you the seal of approval. I think you two would be so cute together, and as long as you don’t mind letting me steal him away from time to time to hang out, I just want him to get his ass over here to meet you and start flirting with you already.”

“Oh my god, stop it,” she giggles as a slight blush covers her cheeks. “Of course. I mean, I’d like to think at this point you and I are friends, too, but don’t go writing our happily ever after just yet, okay? We haven’t been introduced or even been on a date.” She tucks her long hair behind her ear, sneaking a glance at Sam across the room with shining, eager eyes.

“I know Sam, and I promise you, he’s gonna like you. I didn’t think Brady knew any girls that were more brains than boobs,” you pause to giggle at yourself, “but I’m glad he came up with the idea to introduce you two. You’re definitely someone special. Jess, you two are going to be amazing together.”

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