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"I told you not to touch that vase," Sam said.

"No, you didn't, and I know better than to touch unknown objects without a glove."

"Obviously, you don't, because here we are."

Samuel—because Sam had to call him something besides his own name, and as prissy as he was, Sam wasn't about to call him Sammy—rolled his eyes in response. Then he held out his arms to touch the smooth bronze walls around them.

Sam grabbed his wrists before he could touch the metal. "Don't touch it."

"It's a little late for that now!"

"We don't know what else it might do."

"It might expel us back out as human-sized."

"Or it might shrink us even more."

Samuel lowered his arms to his sides. "Fine."

"Fine." Sam let go of his wrists and stepped back.

Quick as a flash, Samuel whipped one arm back, palm against the bronze.

"Don’t—" Sam cut himself off as it was obvious he was too late. "How the fuck have you two survived this long?"

"I could ask the same of you," Samuel said. A moment passed in which nothing happened, and he lowered his hand. "Well. That was too much to ask for, I guess."

"Well, usually this kind of thing can be fixed by—"

"A counterspell. Don't suppose you have one in mind?"

"I can think of half a dozen off the top of my head, but it's not like I have access to a lot of supplies in here."

Samuel sniffed. "Fair point. I guess Plan B is to get Dean's attention?"

"If they hadn't gone out for an all-day drive, we could." Sam squinted at his watch in the dim light coming in from the vase's opening far, far overhead. "They should be back in seven hours or so."

"Great." Samuel rubbed a hand over his chin in move that was so unmistakably Dean's that Sam stared at him in confusion. "What?"

"Nothing." Sam glanced up. "We could try to roll this over and off the table."

"So we can die when it comes crashing to the floor and the shards pierce our tiny bodies? No thanks. Besides, we'll probably need the vase intact for the counterspell."

"Yeah, you're right." He ran his hand through his hair. "Maybe it'll wear off after a while. Sometimes that happens with cursed objects, if they're weak enough."

"And maybe lunch will magically appear when we get hungry, too."

"Why are you such a dick all the time?"

Sam hadn't realized how loudly he was speaking until he heard it reverberate off the bronze walls of the vase, followed by complete silence.

There was enough light to see the spots of color high on Samuel's cheeks and the way his lips were firmly pressed together. It took a moment, but he finally said, "Sorry if I've offended you."

"I'm sorry," Sam said. "It's just—you've been here for three weeks, and I still can't get over how different we are. When we're really the same person."

"You think we're the same person?"

Sam drew his head back. "We're not?"

"Not really. I mean, I suppose we're genetically identical—that would be interesting, wouldn’t it? To see if our DNA is the same. Maybe DNA itself isn't even the same in your world as it is in mine."

Okay, that sounded like the kind of "nerding out" that Dean would be teasing him for if he was here. "But you're saying we're not the same."

Samuel shook his head, a brief flash of something unreadable crossing his face. "We haven't had the same experiences."

"Like having a private plane to take us anywhere we want to go. With two pilots."

Samuel's expression turned more pained. "Like being possessed by the devil. Like going to hell."

Sam stared at him. "Dean promised me he wasn't going to tell you guys any of that."

"There are these books in the library…"

"Oh, fuck." Sam rubbed a hand over his mouth. "We should have hidden those."

"They're all true, aren't they?"

He looked at Samuel for a long moment. Gone was the arrogant, almost spoiled veneer that he usually wore. In its stead was—not pity, exactly, but compassion and even something like confusion. Sam said, "Pretty much, yeah."

"You wrote that all down?"

"God, no." He huffed out a laugh. "I mean, actually, God did."

"God?"

"Yeah. Under a pen name."

"The same one that's trying to kill you right now."

Sam nodded.

"That's…twisted."

"Tell me about it."

"Huh." Samuel was quiet for a moment, and then he asked, "How are you even still standing?"

"Sometimes, I'm not sure that I am."

"Oh, Sam."

To Sam's shock, Samuel lunged forward and wrapped his arms around him. Sam stood there for a moment, stiff and silent. When Samuel didn't back off, Sam hesitantly raised his hands to put them on Samuel's lower back and return the hug.

It actually felt really good. Samuel was (obviously) exactly the same height, and he smelled warm and familiar, but with a touch of something that was probably some expensive cologne. He smiled at the thought, patting Samuel's back before releasing him. "Thanks," he said softly, taking a step back.

Samuel gave him a warm smile, the most honest expression Sam had seen from him so far. "So what do you suppose my Dean and your Dean are doing right now?"

"Not having heart-to-heart conversations, that's for sure."

"Right?" Samuel rolled his eyes. "I think he just skimmed through the books looking for the action scenes. And the sex scenes. Not that there were that many of those."

Sam wrinkled up his nose. "That'd be kind of weird, wouldn’t it?"

"Yeah, I definitely skipped ahead when I got to his sex scenes." They shared a shudder, and then Samuel cocked his head to the side. "It was kind of interesting to read yours, though."

Sam's first impulse was to throw his hands up in the air and say, "Oversharing, dude." But there was a dark little thrill of curiosity in him that made him open his mouth and ask, "Why?"

"Well. I mean. We have very different styles, is all."

Now Sam's curiosity was piqued. "How so?"

"You're more…aggressive. Bitey."

"Bitey?"

Samuel nodded. "And also…your scenes were all with women."

Sam swallowed, hard. This was something not even Dean knew, no matter how many times Sam had tried to get up the courage to tell him. "The ones that made it into the books, yeah."

"Ah, okay." Samuel didn't look surprised—more like he'd figured out the answer to something that had been bothering him. "So you have…?"

"In college, yeah. Once or twice since."

"I've always been bi. I mean, since college, at least. My family's never minded, if you were worried about that."

Sam opened his mouth and then closed it again. Finally, he said, "I've wondered, yeah."

Samuel smiled softly. "It's really not a problem."

"Well, you did say we're not the same people."

"Maybe so. Still, I think you'd be surprised." Samuel paused for a second before going on, "I wonder if my Dean has seduced your Dean yet."

If Sam had been drinking anything, he would have spewed it halfway across the room. "He what?"

"C'mon. Don't tell me your Dean wouldn't love the chance to go at it with himself. I know mine would."

Sam didn't have to think about that one for more than a second. "Yeah, that does sound like him."

Samuel nodded knowingly, a gleam in his eye that Sam wasn't entirely sure he liked.

He was about to ask Samuel how he knew when another realization hit him like the jolt of magic that had trapped them in this vase. He slowly said, "And so would you."

"Aren't you curious?"

"I've never really thought about it."

Samuel lifted his eyebrows. "You've never run into another one of yourself?"

Sam winced. "Not in the flesh."

"Ah." Shrugging one shoulder, Samuel said, "Maybe we're too different."

"Have you ever? With…yourself?"

"This isn't the first time we've universe-hopped."

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "What's it like?"

He wasn't surprised to see Samuel's smile turn more coy. "Do you want to find out?"

Did he? Sam considered the option for a moment. He couldn't say he wasn't at least a little curious—it wasn't like the opportunity had presented itself before. His other self seemed to be willing, had maybe even taken advantage of a similar situation before. Thinking about that had a sudden pulse of arousal wash through him, enough to make him briefly close his eyes.

When he opened them again, Samuel had moved closer and was looking at him intently. "You want to, don't you?"

He moistened his lips, realizing with another jolt how that made Samuel's gaze grow more hungry. Casually, he said, "Could be fun," although the roughness of his voice belied the light tone he was trying to achieve.

"Fun, hmm?" Samuel shifted closer, carefully watching him. When he reached out and touched Sam's side, fingers slipping under his untucked shirt to brush against his skin, Sam drew in a sharp breath.

Instantly, Samuel's hand went still. "Is this okay?"

Sam nodded, wishing he didn't feel so tongue-tied. He wanted to return Samuel's casual confidence, wanted to reach out and touch him in return, but instead he was holding his breath, waiting for something to happen.

Samuel let out a short sigh. "Look, you don't have to be polite about it. I get that you don't want to be rude by turning me down, but for God's sake, if you're not interested, just say so rather than standing here like a—"

Sam cut him off by grabbing his shoulders and yanking him up against him, taking Samuel's mouth in a bruising kiss that finally shut him up.

Samuel gave a quiet moan before pressing back against him, hands going up the back of his shirt and burning trails across Sam's skin. He tilted his head so their mouths aligned better and tried to turn the kiss softer.

Sam wasn't having any of that. He nipped at Samuel's lower lip before laving it with his tongue, rewarded with a deeper moan that sounded so much like his own aroused voice that his dick automatically jumped in response.

Pressed against Samuel as he was, his other self must have felt it. Sure enough, his hands pressed to Sam's lower back and held him there as he pressed their groins more firmly together, lining his dick right up against Sam's.

Sam groaned in arousal and frustration, breaking the kiss to nip at Samuel's jaw. Samuel lifted his head high, arching away to give Sam more room, and Sam obliged him, licking and sucking and biting down the length of his neck to where his scarf met his collarbone.

He yanked the scarf away before lifting up the bottom of his shirt, and Samuel ducked back to let him pull it off of him. Sam spread his hands across Samuel's skin, taking in a chest that wasn't quite as well-defined as his own, but that his fingers were suddenly aching to touch.

"C'mon," Samuel muttered, fumbling with the buttons of Sam's flannel shirt. He had the first few done, so Sam reached back to the scruff of his neck to grab both shirts at once and yank them over his head and drop them to the floor.

"Well, damn." Samuel whistled. "Look at you." His hands traced up Sam's sides and then down the center of his chest, manicured fingers spreading out across his abs.

He stopped and looked up from under his lashes as his hands reached the buckle of Sam's belt.

"Do it," Sam said before claiming his mouth again.

They pulled off each other's pants, Samuel hopping on one leg to get his skinny jeans off. When he looked like he was about to fall over, Sam grabbed his upper arms to steady him.

A moment later, he was falling to the ground, Samuel's weight pressing on top of him. "So easy," he murmured before licking and kissing down Sam's chest, taking the time to worry one nipple into a hard nub and then the other, flicking them both with his fingers when he was done and sending shivers down Sam's spine.

He glanced up for permission again as he reached Sam's waistband, and Sam nodded, lifting his lips. A smug smirk curled Samuel's lips, and he yanked off Sam's underwear before promptly swallowing Sam down.

Sam let out a yell that probably could have been heard throughout the bunker. He'd heard men in bars mutter about Dean's cocksucking lips, had watched Dean punch out one or two of them for it, but he'd never realized how good his own mouth looked in a similar position. Samuel had him almost all the way, his throat working around the tip of Sam's cock, two fingers curled around his base to handle the rest of him.

And holy shit, did his other self know how to suck cock.

He reached down, stroking Samuel's jaw and his hollowed cheeks. Samuel didn't look up, all of his focus on Sam's dick, and fuck if that wasn't just about the hottest thing Sam had ever seen.

He slid his fingers into Samuel's hair, loving how long and soft it was. Samuel gave that same quiet moan he had when Sam aggressively kissed him, and another light bulb went on in Sam's head.

He curled up his fingers and gave a gentle tug.

Samuel moaned more loudly, hips undulating as if he was rubbing against the floor between Sam's legs.

Sam started tugging more aggressively, pulling on one side and then caressing that same spot. Samuel glanced up at him, nodding as best he could with his mouth full, and ducked his head, relaxing his throat and taking Sam all the way down.

Sam took in two fistfuls of hair and pulled, holding Samuel there while he began to fuck his mouth. Samuel groaned what sounded like, "Mm-hmm," hips working as he started grinding against the floor.

Sam's hips were starting to move with his thrusts, and he loosened his grip to make sure he wasn't choking Samuel. To his surprise, that got him a noise of protest, so he pulled the pins out of Samuel's hair and dug his fingers into that stupid manbun.

"Mmmmm," came through loud and clear. One of Samuel's hands was fondling Sam's balls, and the other was reaching down his body.

"No." Sam lunged upwards to grab at Samuel's arm. "That's for me."

The moan that followed was of arousal as much as protest, and Sam knew he had guessed right. He scraped his nails against Samuel's scalp and demanded, "Suck me."

Samuel shot him a dirty look at the command, but he started swirling his tongue along Sam's length in a move that had Sam groaning out loud. He loosened his grip enough to allow Samuel to move his head up and down, and wow, this wasn't going to take much longer at all.

Samuel had both hands splayed across Sam's hips now, holding him down as his head bobbed up and down. Sam watched him work, noting how he kept making these little thrusts against the floor like he couldn't help himself, like he was getting so turned on from sucking Sam that he couldn't stop. Sam was getting closer himself, the crest of the wave just moments away, and he let himself relax and watch and just let it happen.

When he came, he threw his head back and let out a cry that echoed off the walls of the vase. Samuel kept sucking him through it, and he almost thought he was going to black out for a moment. But then he became too sensitive, and he had to push Samuel off.

Samuel crawled up beside him, looking as pleased and smug as ever. "Glad you gave it a shot?" he purred, his voice rougher than before.

"Shit," Sam breathed out, heart still thumping a mile a minute.

Samuel chuckled. "Thought so." He kicked off his underwear and pressed up against Sam's side, cock hot and heavy against his hip. "Now are you going to have to help me with this, or do I have to do all the work?"

Sam laid still for a moment just to see what he'd do. When he let out a sigh and started to reach for himself, Sam rolled him onto his back and held his wrists over his head with one hand. "I told you that was for me," he growled.

Samuel's eyes were dark, pupils wide. "So you did," he breathed.

Sam paused for just a moment. Then he let his hand trail down Samuel's chest before taking him in hand right as he scraped his teeth across Samuel's neck.

"Oh God," Samuel groaned, hips bucking upwards. "Oh yes, please. Oh Sam, don't stop, please, you're so—"

Sam didn't get to find out what he was, because he crushed Samuel's mouth under his in another hard kiss. That had Samuel's hips writhing around so his cock nearly slipped out of Sam's hand, so Sam shifted his weight so his leg was holding Samuel's thighs down.

He stroked Samuel the way he himself liked it, alternating short and fast, going the full length from base to tip and back. Every time he went fast, Samuel's breath hitched, so he finally settled on that, moving his hand as fast as he could while his tongue plunged into Samuel's mouth.

Samuel grabbed his biceps, and then he was coming in a shudder, head to toe, surprisingly silent. Sam drew back to watch, shocked by how intimate it was to see his own face as he came.

But then, they weren't the same person, were they?

Samuel wrapped his arms around Sam and held him there, panting into Sam's ear. "Well," he finally said. "I hope that was…fun."

Sam snorted against his chest. "You could say that."

Samuel made a noise that sounded like nothing so much as a giggle. An hour ago, Sam would have found it annoying, but now it was strangely endearing.

After a few minutes, Sam felt like his heart rate was almost back to normal. He took stock and realized that, unsurprisingly, this was the most relaxed he'd felt in a very long time. He leaned back on one elbow and asked, "How did that measure up?"

Samuel gave him a coy smile. "Totally worth it." He dropped a kiss on Sam's lips and sat up, reaching for his clothes. "C'mon, let's get dressed."

Sam stared at him and then mentally shrugged. So he didn't like to cuddle. That was okay. He pulled on his underwear and pants and asked, "How long do you think we have before Dean gets back?"

"Why, do you want to go again?" Samuel smirked.

"No, I was just wondering how long we're going to be stuck in here."

"About six hours, by our earlier count. Unless we think up the counterspell in the meantime."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Now that, between the two of us, we just might manage to do."

The genuine smile he got in response put a wide grin on his own face. He was starting to be glad these two had decided to stick around after all.