Work Text:
The back corridors of the mall are unsurprisingly cold.
Their team rushes them though, urging them to make haste as their meet and greet is almost late to start. Sam is one step behind Colby—someone’s hand on his shoulder to propel him forward. Security circles them, keeping him and Colby enclosed and secure.
Sam can’t keep the smile off his face.
He’d never thought that meeting so many people would ever be so fun—but he supposes it has to do with the reason he’s meeting these people. The fans. People that support them and claim that him and Colby changed their lives for the better, with those exact people changing their lives for the better.
Being late is not an option.
Traffic was atrocious when they attempted to get to the mall from their hotel. It took them much longer than anticipated to arrive. They had no time to prepare before being rushed into the fray. The two of them were meant to be briefed, drink some water, and do whatever they needed before they’d have to stay in one spot for the rest of the day.
Instead they’re being briefed as they walk.
They turn the corner as a unit, and cheers echo loud throughout the building. Sam grins, briefly catching Colby’s eyes. The brunette grins back. It really never gets old.
Their group navigates to the storefront they’re using as their stage and photobooth. The two men are placed in front of a makeshift wall adorned with wallpaper.
“Whatever you do," the head of the security team says, her walkie talkie in hand and headset on her head, “don’t walk out of this space without the team, alright?”
Both men nod. On the way down the hallway they had a few people tap their shoulders. Their security almost bodied them, which is overkill in Sam’s opinion. What harm could some teenage girls do? But he confirms his agreement anyway.
Him and Colby are allowed only a moment's peace as the team gets the area ready. They’re briefing the line—no, the crowd—of fans outside over and over, trying to bullhead the rules into their minds.
Colby lightly bumps into him, making Sam shift his attention from the crowd to him. He blinks up at him.
“I almost totally forgot to use the bathroom before we got here dude, that would have been fucked,” the man nervously laughs. Then he shakes his head, expression going back to ease.
“Yeah, can’t imagine—” his words suddenly cut off, body stilling.
Shit.
He forgot to use the bathroom.
“You okay, dude?” Colby’s voice is low with concern. Their team makes the crowd chant something, hyping them up to finally meet them. Shit. Shit. Shit.
It’ll be fine, they have breaks, right? Sam clears his throat, eyes finding the entrance of the store front and the sea of people right past its walls.
“Yeah, fine, dude. Excited.” Sam wills himself to smile, and once again he finds it’s not hard to.
A member of their team approaches them again, “Ready?”
“Yeah.” “Yup.”
And then the first person is let through.
ㅤ
ㅤ
ㅤ
Sam shifts on his feet, waving goodbye to the last fan they just took a picture with only to swiftly pivot to welcome the next.
The fan grins, and Sam gives them a hug.
It’s been a few hours since they started, and honestly time is flying by. Sam pats their back, listening to them as they speak. Him and Colby easily reply.
“Alright, picture time!” A member of their team says, and the fan positions themselves between him and Colby. Sam smiles at the camera, throwing up a peace sign. The light flashes. Sam blinks the after image out of his eyes, easily saying goodbye to the fan.
There’s a moment of down time, the cameraman checking and rechecking the camera. A member of their team hands them water. Sam grabs his with a ‘thank you’.
He presses the bottle to his lips. The moment the water fills his mouth he pauses. He’s been distracted this whole time with every new face he’s met, but now that they’re taking their first break…
Sam swallows the water, completely aware of how it adds to the already full feeling in his bladder. Shit, he really hasn’t used the bathroom in hours. And it’s really starting to get to him.
The bottle is taken from his hand. Sam somewhat nervously licks his lips, eyes flickering around at the various team members and security that surround them.
“Colby,” he starts, the brunette blinks at him with a questioning look, “do you think that—”
“Okay, are we ready for the next bunch?” The head of security pops up out of nowhere.
“Uh,” Colby speaks, his eyes still looking at Sam questioningly, “yeah?”
Sam tries not to show his nerves, they’ll have a break soon right? If not, he can probably just ask. He can go soon, it’s fine.
“Yeah, yeah, we’re ready,” he nods. The head of security nods at them, then goes to the front of the store.
“What were you saying man?” Colby asks, body instinctively shifting closer. Sam’s eyes roam the front of the store, then settle back onto Colby.
“It’s nothing,” he answers. It’ll be fine. Not much longer.
The next fan is guided through, and he puts on a smile. It’s strained.
ㅤ
ㅤ
ㅤ
The next few hours go by, and the pressure of his bladder is starting to become something he can’t ignore. His lower body practically tingles with the need to go. But he stays standing in place.
They’ve moved on to groups of fans a handful of hours ago, signaling the second and last stage of the meet and greet.
Sam puts on a smile for every person, making sure that his expression and body language show nothing of what he’s feeling. Show nothing about the warmth that tries to escape him. Show nothing about the way his body wants to curl into itself.
A fan squeezes him too tightly, and he grits his teeth to bite down the whine that wants to leave him. It makes a small flush flash across his face, making his hands tremble.
The group leaves, and it’s him and Colby for just a moment again.
“Colby,” he speaks lowly, trying not to accelerate his breathing, “Colby I n-need to use the bathroom. Like yesterday.” His feet shift involuntarily. His body is tense, trying not to fidget and sway too obviously. He can’t keep his eyes in one location, both seeking and hiding from the various faces that surround him. There’s so many people around.
Too many people.
“Okay,” and he’s thankfully Colby leans into his space, making sure that he speaks at the same volume, “we’ll ask them—”
“Yeah, but it’s the last hour, an–and we need to meet the quota or people will be pissed. We promised—”
“Dude, if you need—”
Sam bites the inside of his lip, then gives the group of fans a big smile. Colby straightens up, jumping back into his space and greeting them. A fan bumps into them as they take position for the camera an apology escaping their lips. Sam resteadies them and himself. He resists the urge to cross his legs.
The blonde smiles for the camera. Throws up a peace sign. Sticks out his tongue.
The light flashes. And the fans turn back to face them. Sam slides into the conversation, using it as anchor to stay calm and act normal. The group of far too many people walk away.
“Let’s just tell the team, okay?” Colby barely whispers. Sam gives him a pained expression, wanting to make a shushing motion but refraining. Anyone can see them right now, they can’t know there’s anything wrong. Much less what’s wrong.
His bladder aches, and he can feel the pressure so harshly. His eyes start to sting, but he quickly blinks the potential water out of them. He swallows thickly.
“I don’t know—don’t know what to do,” he finally admits. And his own words almost leave him breathless. His blue eyes are wide, and they beg Colby to help.
“Then, let’s tell them,” Colby urges, hand twitching towards the blonde like he’s about to drag Sam away himself, “Sam.”
“N-no, dude,” Sam’s exhale is more of a pant. He knows the tips of his ears have turned pink with the new wave of embarrassment washing through him and the exertion it’s taking to stay calm. Another group of fans come through. Sam gives them hugs, trying not to let his panic overtake his expression.
They can’t know.
They can’t know.
His heart pounds in his chest as the flash of the camera blinds him. Even though he’s taken God knows how many pictures, this one makes him flinch. He blinks his eyes, the eye floaters of the after image staining his vision. It does nothing to help his breathing.
He shifts his weight on his legs, toes curling in his shoes.
“Bye Sam!” Someone says. Sam’s head snaps towards them, mouth forming a fake smile.
“Bye!” He says back, voice a bit thin. The moment his hand drops it’s enclosed by his other hand. He wrings his hands, and finds that the slightest tremble makes its way through them.
“Shit,” he breathes out. His legs involuntarily move closer, thighs wanting to press together. Fuck. It feels like he's about to burst.
The rush of footsteps and people arrive again.
“Hi Sam!” A fan greets, Sam finds their eyes and watches as their eyebrows twitch in concern, “you okay?”
A strike of terror goes through him, no doubt making his expression pale, “No, yeah, I’m good. Just a long day. How are you?” He rushes out, voice shaking the slightest amount. The fan smiles, and doesn’t ask about him again.
They turn forwards for pictures.
There’s a flash.
He doesn’t realize how heavy he’s breathing until Colby’s hand is on his shoulder. Sam startles, eyes ripped from the camera and to Colby. The fans have already moved on.
Sam bites his inner lip hard, feet and legs shifting in a mockery of a dance. His hands find the fabric of his pants, nails digging and scratching into it. His thighs press together, and he bites his lip.
A whimper almost escapes.
“That’s enough,” Colby’s voice is hard, leaving no room for argument. Sam opens his mouth to speak, but before he gets the words out he’s dragged away from the makeshift stage and camera set up. Colby has him by the shoulders and is pushing his body behind the stage.
Sam lets himself be moved, body stiff as he tries not to release on the spot. The walking is jostling his body, making it much harder to keep it in. Sam tries not to whimper.
There’s people talking to them, and Colby’s saying something back. But Sam’s doing his best to hold it in.
Colby has placed him in the corner, because there’s nowhere else to go. There’s not a bathroom in the shop, and the nearest one will make them pass the crowd. His hands turn Sam around, making the blonde face him. Colby’s touch is comforting, but it doesn’t stop the shame washing through him. The embarrassment. The sickly panic.
“I c-can’t,” his voice is strained.
“I know, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Colby puts his body between Sam and anyone or anything else.
“Colby I don’t want to—I don’t want,” he hiccups, surprising himself with the tears that start to fall. His eyes widen, heart rate accelerating. He can’t calm down. The sound of squeaking shoes and voices echo into the store and past the various clothes racks and people.
There’s still so many people out there. They’ll know if something happens. They’ll see him. See him…
“Colby,” he whines, his body feels like jello and he finds himself closer to the ground. Colby goes down with him, gripping him by his shoulders.
“Sam, Sam, no one can see you, it’s okay, we can tell the team to escort—” Colby’s words are cut off by Sam gripping his wrists. His nails dig into Colby’s skin with desperation.
“No,” Sam gasps out, “I can’t make it.” The blonde’s eyes shine with tears under the dim store lights. His legs shake and wobble, pressing into each other then moving away in a rhythm. He’s in a low skyway, shoes crinkled where his feet support him.
Colby’s own eyes are wide, looking over Sam’s form.
A security guard walks up behind him.
“What’s going on? Is he okay?” There’s a hint of true concern, then, “We still have a hundred or so out there to get through, so hurry it up.”
Sam watches as Colby’s expression turns into a glare. The man turns on his heels, hands still on Sam like an anchor even though he’s glazing up at the guard.
“Can’t you see something’s going on here?” He spits out.
“Just trying to do my job, man.” The guard reptiles a bit tensely, eyes roaming over Sam. Sam shrinks under the person’s gaze, something pings in his abdomen, making him bow his head and squeeze his thighs together.
“Shit,” he gasps out.
“Then do your job over there,” Colby all but demands, “please.” He adds on tersely. The person’s footsteps fade away. Sam’s head is in between his legs now, whole body shaking. His hands have a bruising grip on Colby’s wrists as he squirms.
“I don’t wanna piss myself here,” he says quietly, “please.” His tears hit the smooth floor.
“I’ll get the head of security, we’ll make it, okay?” Colby moves to stand up, but Sam tugs him back down.
“Not, n-not, gonna,” he whines, “not gonna, not—”
Something warm flashes through his lower body, and he feels the pressure shift from his bladder and down his dick. It sits at his tip, just waiting to be released. It starts to leak, he can feel it. He knows.
And there’s people out there. There’s people everywhere. Colby may have put him in the most scheduled corner but at least the team will know. And the fans—what are they going to think? Fuck. What are they thinking now? They’re gonna notice—
They know he’s not there, and that Colby’s not there—and if he pisses himself what is going to wear? They’re gonna know, they’re gonna see it.
Colby’s knees hit the floor again, and he tugs his arm out of Sam’s steely grip. He uses that free hand to rest under Sam’s chin, slowly raising the flushed blonde’s face to meet his eyes.
“It’s okay, things happen, it’ll be okay. The fans won’t know, okay?” Colby reassures, the words leaving his lips easily, like what he’s saying is true. Sam shakes his head, and finds that it shakes his body instead. Something leaks out of him again but with more force, he whimpers.
Colby’s hand cups the side of Sam’s face, his thumb brushing against his stream of tears. One of Sam’s hands continues to grip at the arm Colby has on his shoulder, Sam’s other hand joining it. Colby lets him.
“I’m gonna… piss—I’m gonna piss myself,” Sam whispers in defeat, bright blue eyes never leaving Colby’s calm ones.
“It’s okay,” Colby reassures again. Sam can feel warmth start to spill out of him, and he bows his head with a whimper. His feet shift, but he stays with only his toes touching the floor. Colby sits up to crouch with him.
Sam pants between soft gasps, the warmth turning into that dreadful wetness. The wet starts to soak the front of his pants. And Sam, with his head between his legs, can see how the dark stain starts to form.
He grits his teeth to hide a whine, letting his tears fall silently instead. He can feel Colby’s fingers warm against him, trying to soothe him.
“Woah, what’s happening?” A voice startles him and he careens forward. Colby catches him, steadying him. The blonde’s forehead is pressed against Colby’s chest, eyes still on his own form. The whole thing jostles him, and he tries to hold it in.
But it’s too late, that breaks the dam. Sam watches as his piss starts to soak the front of his pants with vigor. He whines into Colby.
“Just, give us a minute okay? Alone, please?” Colby asks the voice that Sam barely recognizes as the head of security.
“Do we need to cut this short? How long do you think—”
“Just, please, go away,” Colby says through his teeth, fingers pressing to Sam’s clothes with tension.
His pant legs start to get soaked, and any second now he’ll be pissing all over the store’s floor. Fuck. Fuck. Sam whimpers pathetically.
“Okay,” she easily agrees. But Sam can feel her eyes on him. Oh God, she knows. She has to know. What is she looking at him like? With disgust?
Sam’s hands grip the fabric of Colby’s shirt. His piss soaks down his pants, past his socks. Small droplets start to hit the floor just like his tears.
“She’s gone,” Colby says softly into his ear, “shh, I got you.” Sam keens. And then the stream starts to go through the fabric at his crotch. It hits the floor wetly. Sam can see how Colby’s shoes shift.
His piss can be easily heard as it hits the stupid store floor. The store floor that he's ruining. Hot shame rolls through him, making him swallow sickly. His face burns. Sam finds himself rocking back and fourth, letting his tears fall.
The puddle of his piss grows beneath him, and he watches as it starts to reach his shoes. He can’t do anything about it, he can’t stop it, he can’t—
He shudders, feeling his piss spurt out of him. After hours of holding it, the feeling of his bladder emptying makes him feel a small sense of relief. His near hyperventilating breaths turn into slower shallower ones. The grip he has on Colby loosens slightly.
“There you go,” Colby mumbles, “it’s okay.” Sam lets himself try and relax for just a second, just to get it over with. His piss makes it to the tips of Colby’s shoes.
“Just breathe,” the brunette adds. A few more spurts of piss exit Sam’s dick, the stream itself dying down. Sam moves his head against Colby’s chest, messing up his hair. He lets himself close his eyes, trying to breathe in and out.
The soft sound of something dripping and meeting something wet is barely there under the sound of people chattering. Sam tenses, body going frigid.
“No, no, shh, it’s okay, it was an accident, it’s okay,” Colby tries to quickly reassure. Sam blinks his wet eyes open as he moves a small bit away from Colby. He looks past Colby’s shoulder.
The makeshift wall that they were standing in front of blocks most of the view from out of the store. Various clothes racks and shelves litter the area behind it. The register is directly behind it, and it’s stacked with various radios and items. Including the box of gifts their fans gave them.
Their team stands around, most of them in front of the wall. But a few are behind, their bodies slightly turned their way.
Sam’s fingers dig into the fabric of Colby’s shirt again. Fuck. What do they do? What do they tell them?
Sam’s breathing picks up again, and he doesn’t notice how his lungs stutter as his shoes squeak when he tries to back himself into the corner.
Colby grabs him, and they’re both preciously positioned over the mess Sam made. Sam can’t breathe, he can’t breath, he can’t—
“Look at me, look at me Sammy,” Colby says sternly, but Sam’s eyes are anywhere but looking a t him. The various faces of their team seem to blur in his vision, fading in and out with the ambiance of the crowd. Colby’s hand is on his chin again, this time forcefully moving the blonde’s head.
Colby’s face is obscured by Sam’s tears. Sam hiccups a breath. He wants to collapse against the ground, but then he’ll make more of a pathetic mess of himself. Fuck. He’s a grown ass man, why is he pissing himself in public? And then crying about it like a baby?
Sam whines, but the grip on his jaw stops it from being loud.
“Breathe for me Sam, c’mon, I know you can,” Colby says. Sam tries to blink his tears away but more keep coming. He can do that for Colby. He has to do that for Colby. He has to listen to Colby, he’ll know what to do.
Because Sam has no idea what to do anymore, he hasn’t since his body started shaking and the pressure was too much and all he could do was release.
He sucks in a breath, then another, too harshly. He wobbles, knees almost making contact with the floor and soiling his pants more. The smell of his piss hits his nose and he almost chokes.
“Breathe, Sammy,” Colby reminds. Sam nods wordlessly, sucking in another breath, slower this time. He does this again and again and again.
Secure in Colby’s hold, he manages to calm himself down. He’s tired as shit, face still burning and body still shaking. He leans forward again, intentionally hiding himself in Colby’s shoulder. The sound of footsteps approaching doesn't even scare him anymore.
“Oh,” a familiar voice says. The head of security is back.
“Don’t let anyone know,” Colby orders, a hand resting at the back of Sam's head and threading a hand through his short locks.
“We’ll make sure of it,” she replies, “sorry this happened.” Colby doesn’t reply, but Sam feels him nod. Sam continues to tremble against him.
“Wh-what about,” he croaks out, “the fans?”
He feels Colby shift, the brunette's chin resting on top of his head.
“It’ll be fine, Sam. It’ll be sorted.” His fingers gently brush through his hair. Sam, not being able to do anything else, just nods, leaning more into Colby.
ㅤ
He’ll let Colby handle everything.
It'll be okay.