Work Text:
If anyone had asked Sam where he thought his life would leave him at the age of thirty, he definitely wouldn't have answered them with 'sitting in a cramped cubicle, headphones plugged so deeply into his ears that he could swear they were about to collide, trying desperately to ignore the incessant squeaking of his coworker's office chair. Sam had been working at the law firm for just over a year now, and even though he had graduated at the top of his class, he had taken some time off between graduation and landing this job, which meant that he had to start at the bottom an work his way up the ladder to prove himself. Which, on any other normal day, he wouldn't have minded the endless paperwork and monotonious typing tasks that left his fingers cramped in very awkward positions for at least an hour after he clocked out of his shift, but today.... today was not a normal day. Not in the slightest.
Today was the day that his older brother, Dean, was driving down from Lawrence to visit him. Sam had been putting off flying out to see him, and on their last weekly phone call, Dean had expressed in no uncertain terms that he'd had enough of Sam's 'bullshit lies' and was going to be driving down there whether he liked it or not. At the very least, knowing that Dean was driving, even with him speeding down whatever roads he could, left him with more than enough time to make sure that his apartment wasn't completely trashed. It wasn't that Sam was a slob, persay, it's just that he worked over ten hours a day, six days a week, and on that seventh, glorious day, he just wanted to veg out on the couch in his pajamas and thumb through the list of classic B-horror movies that were updated on Netflix for that month.
Today was the day that he had slept through his third alarm, stubbed his toe getting out of the shower, banged his head on the cabinet above the coffee maker, spilled what little coffee he had left down the front of his brand new dress shirt and tie, jammed his index and middle fingers into the desk drawer when retrieving a file that the boss requested, impatiently tapping his foot at the corner of Sam's cubicle, and nearly downloaded a virus to his computer by clicking on a click-bait ad that one of his coworkers had sent to his work email. No, today was not just a very unnormal day, but it was one of the worst that Sam had experienced in years. Everything that could go wrong, was going wrong, and everything that could get on his nerves was trying its best to.
The incessant squeaking of that damned chair was tapdancing on his last nerve, and his coworker seemed completely oblivious to Sam's irritation. The short blonde that had a habit of wearing the tackiest ties he could find with the most expensive business suits that Sam had only ever dreamed about owning was placed next to him just about seven months ago. He was a level higher than him in the company, but it was rumored around the office water cooler that the blonde did not exactly play well with others, and that was why he had been 'navigated' toward Sam's office space. The boss' secretary had informed Sam that if anyone would be able to get through to Gabriel Novak, it would be him.
Right now, all Sam wanted to get through to Gabriel was his stapler through his shoes. Maybe if his feet were nailed to the damn ground he couldn't roll around in that god damned squeaking chair.
Sam pushed his non-bandaged and bruised hand through the long chesnut locks that had slipped from the respectible ponytail sometime after lunch hour and released another, low but clearly audible sigh of annoyance. The squeaking stopped, yet again, but as always, it resumed not ten minutes later. If anything, it was even more annoying than the last time he'd been wiggling around in his chair. Sam pushed his own chair back away from the desk, positioning his hand behind him to catch the wall so that he wouldn't crash into it with how hard he'd pushed away from his own desk. He settled a hard hazel gaze on the back of the older man's blonde hair, almost wishing he could burn a hole straight through his skull.
"Do you mind, Gabriel?" They'd long since skirted past the professional 'last name basis' protocol, though Gabriel seemed to enjoy taking liberties with Sam's name, given the long, and ever growing, list of nicknames that he used to annoy him with.
"What ever do you mean, Samuel?" Gabriel turned to him, his added weight on the already rickity chair making it grind against the metal, causing Sam's right eye to twitch. He'd adopted a very dramatic Southern accent as he placed his hand over his heart. "What are thy accusing little ol' me of this time?"
"Cut the crap, Gabriel. I'm tired, I've had a shit day, and I would not hesitate to contemplate murdering you with your smiley-face mug right about now. Stop. Squeaking. That. Damn. Chair."
He raised his hand, flipping it to press the back against his forehead. "Oh me, oh my! Such language to use around such a lady as myself!"
The sound of muffled laughter and snorts of amusement could be heard from around them. Sam wanted to glare at them all, but he was developing a headache and figured that one rowdy coworker was enough to deal with at a time.
"Gabriel, I swear to God.... oh shut up!" He rolled his eyes when Gabriel gasped loudly and crossed his fingers at him in a 'banishing' motion. "Just keep still for ten fucking minutes and I'll give you whatever you want when we get off work."
He should not have said that. He definitely should not have said that, because the look that crossed the older man's face was damn near predatory. Sam swallowed hard as he watched Gabriel rise from the offending chair, the spring releasing a soft creaking sound that almost sounded like one of relief, and approach his own cubicle. It was a short space to cross, but Sam felt like he was watching everything in slow-motion. He was pretty certain that all the color had drained from his face by the time that Gabriel planted one hand on either arm of his chair and leaned forward into his personal bubble.
"Anything, Sam Winchester? Are you sure you're willing to make that bet?"
Sam felt like he'd swallowed a cactus and it was just sitting there, lodged in the back of his throat, it's needles expanding into his windpipe every time he tried to take a breath in. He cleared his throat, the sound coming out more strangled than he would've liked, but he managed to answer him clearly. "I do not think you are capable of sitting still for two minutes, let alone ten."
"Challenge accepted, Winchester." Gabriel all but purred as he launched himself backwards, turning on his heel and heading back to his cubicle in one swift motion, leaving Sam to contemplate what in the hell he'd just done.
**~**~**~**
Sam spent the next ten minutes getting absolutely no work done. He kept a sharp ear out for any squeaking, but it only came when Gabriel would shift in order to complete his assignments. No ridiculous bouncing or twirling, nothing that would lead anyone to believe that Gabriel had been tormenting Sam for the better half of the workday. He glanced at the clock on his computer, then at his watch to make sure that the times were synched up. Two minutes left. Sam was both genuinely surprised and rather nervous about what it was that Gabriel would be asking for, should he manage to get past the last two minutes without fail.
It was no secret that Gabriel Novak was gay. He made that much clear by the sheer amount of public affection that he showed whatever boytoy that managed to grace his bed that weekend, that dropped him off on Monday morning or came by to pick him up on Friday afternoon. Sam wasn't in the closet, by any means, but he wasn't nearly as affectionate with his partners as Gabriel dared to be. There were still people around that turned their noses up at things like that, and Sam didn't have the same financial graces helping him through life to be able to afford losing a job such as this. No, it didn't bother Sam that Gabriel might request that he fall into his bed just as easily as if he had snapped his fingers, what worried him was that he had not set a specific time limit when making the betting terms. For all he knew, Gabriel could demand that Sam give up all sexual partners besides him. Not that he had any, mind you, he'd been single since his girlfriend, Jess, had a tragic accident that resulted in her burning to death, but it was the principle of the thing.
One minute. Gabriel still looked the same, though now there was an almost devilish, knowing smirk on his lips as he typed away at his computer. Sam felt the back of his collar dampening from sweat, but he chose to ignore it. He wouldn't let Gabriel see how he'd basically ignored his work in favor of watching the blonde, or how anxious that this bet was actually making him. Sam ran his hand through his hair again, sighing low and long. He opened his eyes again, not to find Gabriel at his cubicle, but to find himself staring into those intense golden eyes that always seemed to send shivers down his spine on a normal day at the office. The blonde had wheeled his chair over into Sam's space and he was surprised he hadn't heard the squeaking when it'd moved. His thighs blanketed Sam's knees as he leaned forward, tapping on the clear crystal of his watch. "Time's up, Sammy."
Shit. He'd actually made it. He'd been so sure that he would have won the bet and could go home without having to worry about what he was going to do until he had to go meet Dean the next morning. Clearly he hadn't anticipated just how focused Gabriel could be on a task when there was something for him in the end. He swallowed around the cactus that seemed to pop up every time Gabriel was this close.
"Alright, Novak, what do you want?"
"Tomorrow is your day off, right? Well, it's mine too. How about we grab some lunch at Nell's and see where things go from there? Lunch is the only thing I'm holding you to." Gabriel looked so serious in that moment that it was near uncharacteristic of him.
Sam was sure he was staring, probably open-mouthed, too, judging by the smirk on Gabriel's own face. He shook his head to try and clear it of the shock. "That's seriously all you want?"
"What kind of guy do you take me for, Samuel? Wait, don't answer that." He held up his right hand and laughed. Sam couldn't help but chuckle softly himself.
"Alright, Gabriel, a deal's a deal. I'll have lunch with you tomorrow. But just to warn you, my brother is coming into town tomorrow all the way from Lawrence, so if I have to reschedule, it's all his fault." Was that a smile that was blooming across his face? Why yes, yes it was.
"Hm... I've got a stuffy, bookworm of a brother that I live with. Bring your brother along and I'll see if we can get those two hooked up and shoved off to the side."
Sam gaped at his brazen attitude. "How did you even know that my brother was into guys?"
"I didnt, until now. But believe me, Cas has got this sex appeal about him, so it wouldn't be the first 'straight' guy that he'd turned."
"Must run in the family," Sam muttered before realizing what he'd said. "So, what time?" Lousy cover-up there, Winchester.
"2pm. I'll be the one with the flowing golden hair wearing the brightest orange suit you have ever set your pretty little eyes on."
Sam rolled his eyes. He lifted his foot, planting it on the space between Gabriel's knees on the chair and shoved him back towards his own cubicle. Unfortunately, Sam forgot his own strength, and Gabriel, and the chair, were sent whizzing past his cubicle and into the hallway, where a loud crash of metal upon plaster could be heard. Everyone stood up to peer into the hallway, curious about what the noise was, while Sam was torn between wanting to sink into the floor and disappear and laugh his ass off until he rolled off his own chair.
"Alright, alright, I'll wear the purple suit!"
Laughter won out in the end.