Chapter Text
The palm fronds rustled as Sammy stepped around them, moving briskly and out of habit as he returned from a surfing jaunt, shirtless, exhilarated, and feeling good. He loved surfing; he loved the water. He loved it HERE. All in all, it was a great day so far.
And about to get better, he thought as he turned into his simple little shack to see three men standing inside. Normally, he'd be a little unhappy to see customers; translating ancient texts for treasure hunters could get hairy if they weren't the nice kind. But at least one of these guys he knew, and that man was already stepping forward with a smile.
Sammy grinned back, dignifying the other two men with a friendly little head-bop in their direction, already moving to grab the nearest dark green fitted T-shirt and casually throw it on. "Hey, Sully!" he said casually, as if he'd been expecting them. "Back in this part of the world, huh. You got something for me?" He was in his element here, and it showed; nothing about this kid's posture, OBVIOUSLY well-muscled body, or tone belied his age, Sam Drake was thinking. He was also rapidly trying to school his expression, since he could feel his heartbeat still refusing to slow down after seeing the boy's still-glistening abs. And since he could practically feel Nate's warning vibrating next to him.
"Yes, I do," Sully said in his endearing rumble, and Sammy ran his hands through a nearby hand-towel on his comfortably-cluttered desk, to remove the surfboard wax he'd been using before touching any ancient papers. He looked between the men expectantly, waiting to see what it was, but Sully assumed his look meant he wanted introductions.
"You've heard me mention Nathan and Sam Drake," he said, gesturing towards them. "Here they are, in all their glory."
Sammy gave a little laugh, smiling at the two men closer to his age, and uttered such an effortlessly-cool "Hey" that Sam felt like his legs might melt. Fortunately, the boy was quick to bring it back to business, taking the text from Sully, asking a few questions about its context--nothing specific, he'd been quick to clarify, just if it was found on a certain type of stone, or in a temple, et cetera, to help him figure out the most likely interpretation of the text--and then getting right to it. Sully started leading Nathan and Sam down the street to find food, since it would take Sammy a couple hours to complete the translation.
Nate stared at Sully, open-mouthed, when he said that while they were walking down the dirt road. "Wait, he's going to finish it THAT quickly? Just how smart IS this kid?"
"Smart," Sully said proudly, as if it were his own son he were praising. "He's a downright savant when it comes to this kind of thing. I've got no idea how he does it."
"How old is he, anyway?" Sam asked; he kept his eyes guileless and curious while watching Sullivan's face, but distinctly felt Nate's eyes narrow in his direction. "Well, when I met him and asked him that question, he said he didn't know," Sully responded, still walking. "He's got an orphanage sob story just like you two--but worse. Bad foster homes, abusive people, the works. So no birth certificate that he knows about. But when I met him--," he thought for a minute "I'd put him at about fourteen. So he'd be seventeen now."
That was good enough for Sam; his eyes, which had darkened to think of Sammy's hard past, brightened a little at the age-related news. Nate deliberately made him hang back when Sully stepped into the restaurant they found first, seeing his big brother's smirk growing and knowing exactly what was on his mind. He pulled Sam's arm to get his attention, and rapped him warningly on the chest.
"Sam, leave that kid alone!" he hissed.
Sam held up his hands in mock surrender, looking at his brother innocently. "What? He's hot!"
Nate groaned and started to go inside, but now it was his turn to be pulled back; Sam held on to his arm for a second, and wiggled his eyebrows. "Come onnnnn, you agree he's hot, right?", his Boston accent coming out smooth and low.
Nate sighed and rolled his eyes before admitting defeat with a sheepish shrug. "OKAY, yes, he's hot--"
"EXACTLY," Sam said, pointing a finger in triumph even though Nate kept speaking over him. "VERY hot."
Nate was still talking. "But he's not even eighteen yet and he doesn't even know us. Not to MENTION it wouldn't be great to piss someone off who's such a great asset!" Nate winced as he said it, realizing immediately the error in his words.
Sam pounced. "I'd like to see his ASSet-"
"Goddamnit, Sam, you literally just met him," Nate sighed, nodding his head towards a waiting Sullivan and guiding Sam inside with a chastising look on his face. "Try not to scare the poor kid, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah." Sam scoffed--but he knew Nate was serious, and he knew that Nate would recognize the statement for what it was: the truth. Sam hadn't forgotten the look in the kid's velvety, long-lashed brown eyes; cheerful, but sad. And he knew immediately that he wanted to make him happy.
That nice asset definitely wouldn't hurt, either.