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On the horizon the moon rises steadily, over the tall trees behind the cabin. It’s a full moon tonight, so bright that Sam can see the trail Colby’s shoes leave on the snow in front of him. It lights up the pitch black sky in ways they could never see in downtown LA.
The sight ignites something akin to a flame close to his heart, strangely enough. Sometimes he thinks he misses Kansas more than he lets himself believe.
“You’re quiet.”
Sam blinks. “What?”
Colby slows his steps until their knees align, and then his shoulder bumps into Sam’s. The thick smoke after each breath hangs around their faces like a halo, shiny white against Colby’s black beanie.
“You haven’t said a word since you walked out the car, dude.” Colby repeats, words coming out in white rings. “You okay?”
“Oh,” Sam says. The cold makes his nose red, and he sniffles. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just enjoying the view.”
Colby looks up, burying his hands on the pockets of his jacket. “Yeah.” He hums. “It’s one hell of a view.”
“I like the peace here. It’s so quiet, but a good quiet I think.” Sam says softly, following with his eyes the journey of a snowflake rolling down Colby’s cheek. “Usually the quiet means stay on alert. It’s a nice change.”
Colby snorts. “Yeah,” he gives Sam an amused look. “That’s because usually quiet comes with an imminent threat of demon possession or a cops notice, choose your poison.”
“Well…” Sam draws out. “Demons haven’t tried to force us apart yet, so I don’t know what that says about cops bro.”
Colby shakes his head with a small smile on his face. Sam’s matches it, serene and relaxed, as they walk on the pebbled path towards their little cabin in silence. The wind has picked up slightly, leading to strong gusts of snow flying freely under the moonlight.
Sam pulls his hand out to graze at the snow falling through his fingers. It’s cold as hell, making his skin turn pink from the sudden temperature change. He wiggles his fingers in front of him.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Colby blurts out an unexpected laugh.
“I was just making sure it’s snow, you know?” Sam plays along. “Yes, can confirm. Wet and cold can only be snow.”
Colby laughs again, a laugh that Sam is well-acquainted with. It’s the laugh that crinkles his eyes, the one he reserves when, really, all he wants to say is this is my best friend, and he’s the weirdest motherfucker you’ll ever meet, but somehow we match . Everything about Colby is familiar to him.
Even the blue in his eyes - that is almost impossible to see in the dark- but Sam still knows it’s there.
“Alright, weatherman.” Colby says, still laughing. He throws one arm around Sam’s shoulders. “Let’s go inside before we catch hypothermia. Even your eyelashes are frozen.”
Sam follows, easily syncing his pace to Colby’s. He walks closely to Colby, soaking in as much warmth as he can from their sides pressed together. There’s something reassuring about knowing someone inside-out – or, not knowing, maybe. More like trusting them, with everything you have, trust them to keep you going and throw a couple of curveballs along the way. Trust them, even in their uncertainty.
“You used to be more fun.”
Colby doesn’t miss a beat to respond. “Shut the fuck up, you piece of crap.”
Sam grins to himself. As familiar as Colby is to him, he is the same to Colby.
-
It’s been ten minutes since they turned on the heater, and Sam’s teeth won’t stop chattering.
“How the fuck are you not freezing right now?!” Sam exclaims, clutching the blanket around his shoulders tighter. “The hell?!”
Colby shrugs, throwing Sam a smug smirk from the doorway. “Maybe because I didn’t try to become one with the snow out there.” He crosses his very bare arms over his chest.
Because of fucking course Colby Brock is a walking furniture who’s fine with walking around with his ridiculous tank-top on.
Sam rolls his eyes. “C’mon, I barely even grazed it. And now I’m fucking dying in here, how is that fair? Are you sure you set the heater to the maximum?”
Colby whistles, walking towards Sam. “Yes Samuel,” he brings a steaming mug to Sam. Sam steals it from him and quickly presses it to his frozen hands. “The heater is on, but it ain’t a miracle worker.”
Sam squints at the mug between his hands. The steam travels up to the ceiling, leaving a sweet scent behind. It does nothing to warm him up past his hands. “This isn’t really working.”
Colby quirks an eyebrow. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
Sam looks up, taking a small sip from the mug. The hot liquid warms his mouth instantly, and he sighs in relief. Sarcasm laced in his voice, he smiles sweetly at his best friend. “Ah yes, thank you honey.”
Colby flips him off, smiling just as sweetly. “Fuck you too, sweetheart.”
Sam wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
Colby huffs out a laugh. The bed dips when he sits next to Sam, making his mug tip sideways. It splotches Sam’s fingertips from where he tries to steady it, and even the scorching drink is more welcomed than the cold that sits rooted under his skin.
He sniffles again – god, he hopes he didn’t just catch a cold. Talk about horrible timing – shoulders shimming in a sad attempt to hide himself deeper into the cocoon of blankets and covers around himself. He feels Colby’s eyes staring at his profile.
“God, you look so pathetic man.” Colby murmurs after a while. He takes the mug, ignoring Sam’s wounded noise as he sets it on the bedside table. “Just come here.” He scoots over to the center of the bed, kicking the covers off with his feet.
Sam gives the mug one last sad look – not like it was doing much but, attachment issues – before crawling closer to Colby. His blanket slides down his back half-way through, and he feels his uncovered neck starting to go cold again.
When he’s within arms’ reach, Colby grabs the hem of his hoodie, and pulls.
Sam jumps away. “Whoa buddy- The fuck?!” He yelps, gripping Colby’s wrists. “Do you want me to die or something?”
Colby gives him a look, shaking his wrists in Sam’s hold, as if Sam is being the dumb one.
“Trust me.”
Eyes locked, they stare at each other wordlessly for a second. Sam sighs.
“That’s called emotional manipulation, just so you know.” He complains. Still, he slowly drops Colby’s hands. Against his better judgment, he lets Colby get his hoodie off. It comes off fast, but not fast enough that he avoids a slight tremble by the time Colby is pulling the covers over them.
“You’re freezing.” Colby hisses through his teeth, as he circles his arms around Sam’s bare back, holding him to his chest. They’re a warm welcome against his cold skin. He doesn’t think Colby will mind the extra cold at this point, so he sneaks his hands between Colby’s middle and the mattress to warm them up.
Sam’s face is buried unceremoniously in the space between Colby’s neck and shoulder, still he manages to groan out a muffled “No really? Couldn’t tell.”
Colby stops rubbing Sam’s back for a second. “I thought you were being dramatic, to be honest.”
He pinches Colby’s side.
“Oi!” Colby squeaks. “Fucking rude.”
Sam laughs lowly. “Shh.” He says, burying himself closer to Colby.
The rise and fall of their chests lulls Sam to a content state of mind, eyes drooping every few seconds. Even in their most relaxed state, they fall together like puzzle pieces, their breaths creating a comfortable sway. He doesn’t remember, but he thinks it must resemble a lot that of a mother lulling her new-born baby to sleep.
“Is that better?” Colby says after a while, hands still brushing up and down his back slowly.
Sam blinks sleepily, trying to focus on his own body. “Oh.” He exhales softly, surprised. “It is better.”
Colby’s light laugh rattles them both. “You man of little faith.”
“Only when I’ve got a frozen brain.” Sam yawns. Colby’s grip tightens momentarily, before his arms fall easily around Sam’s shoulders. “Thank you Colbs.”
“No problem.” Colby whispers back. He reaches to the side to turn the bedroom light off. “Try to sleep.”
Sam hums. “Yeah,” he rubs his cheek on Colby’s shoulder affectionately. “Goodnight.”
Colby buries his nose in Sam’s hair, exhaling softly.
“Nigh, Sam.”