The emergency room of the animal hospital is surprisingly quiet for a Friday night. Granted, that's not usually a bad thing, but quite honestly it's boring. Gabriel likes being an emergency veterinarian because it keeps him moving and gets his blood pumping, because it's exciting, but that's not really the case right now. Instead, he's lounging in a chair by the receptionist's desk with a lollipop hanging out of his mouth, pestering the poor woman with a barrage of terrible pick-up lines to pass the time.
"I'm a writer, you're a writer, how about we get naked and put some poetry in motion?"
Anna sighs in exaggerated annoyance. "Go away, Gabriel."
"No, wait, okay – what about this one: you look cold. Want to use me as a blanket?" Gabriel wags his eyebrows up and down.
"For Christ sakes, these are awful," the redhead giggles. "Where did you even learn them?"
"Wanna do a sixty-eight? You go down on me, and I'll owe you one."
"This is weird," Anna groans, holding up a manicured hand in protest. "You're one of my best friends. Stop trying to seduce me."
"Don't flatter yourself; I'm just practicing for when the next hot guy rolls up in here."
"Oh right, I forgot, you're full gay now."
"And I'll be full of gay, once I put those pick-up lines to use," Gabriel murmurs around his lollipop.
"Jesus, would you stop –"
Their light-hearted banter is abruptly cut off when a very tall, very flustered man bursts through the main doors carrying something in a large blanket. His hazel eyes are wide with fear, his shoulder-length brown hair is tangled around his face, his suit is wrinkled and dirtied, and the tie hanging haphazardly around his neck only adds to his dishevelment. Despite his upset appearance, though, there is something vaguely familiar about him, and Gabriel racks his brain for the reason until it hits him – the guy in the window.
Nearly every morning when Gabriel walks to work, he passes a small apartment building, and three floors up lives a rather attractive young man who stands at his window with a steaming cup of coffee and watches him go by. Now, some people may consider this a little creepy, but Gabriel has never been one to shy away from attention, and besides, the guy's never approached him or even said anything to him. He just hides halfway behind his curtain, sips his coffee, and watches.
One time, he waved up at the man, who almost spilled the contents of his mug all over his shirt and disappeared into the depths of his apartment for a while before returning to the window a few mornings later, fitting a little more snugly behind his curtain. And another time, he saw the guy in his brother's coffee shop and made to go say hello, but the incredibly flighty brunette quickly gathered up his books – a brief glance revealed that he was studying law – and fled the shop. Gabriel had his suspicions before, but after that incident, he became positively certain; the guy likes him, but is too shy to do anything about it.
What a stroke of luck that he's shown up at the veterinarian's workplace, then. The thought that this may be a ploy to get his attention flits through Gabriel's mind for a split second, but then he gets a hold of himself and realizes that this man's distress is absolutely real. He finally focuses enough to notice that the blanket in the man's arms is wrapped around a dog, who is whimpering loudly and struggling in the man's arms, and then his eyes dart to the growing red spot on the faded blue fabric and all thoughts of a false alarm are instantly dismissed.
"Help," the man gasps, sounding out of breath. "Please, she's hurt really bad, you have to help her."
Gabriel springs to his feet, jumping into all-business mode, and tosses his lollipop onto the counter beside Anna, who wrinkles her nose but otherwise ignores it in favor of standing up and rushing to help.
"What happened?" Gabriel asks immediately, motioning for Anna to wheel in a gurney.
"It was a car accident," the man explains, panting between words. "I was driving down the road and she came out of nowhere, she's bleeding a lot and her legs, I think they're... broken, or something, I just –"
Anna appears with the gurney and a few nurses while Gabriel gingerly takes the dog from the frazzled man, just barely registering the contact of heated skin against skin as their hands brush against each other. He lays her down and begins to check her vitals, easily slipping into the well-practiced rhythm of a new patient.
"Sir, I'm going to need you to stay here while I take her back," the vet says out of habit. "Ms. Milton's going to ask you some questions and I'll let you know as soon as I'm done, alright?"
Gabriel barely hears the shaky reply of "Okay," before he is following the nurses past the swinging doors to the operating room, pulling on his gloves and readying himself to save a life, all thoughts of the man in the waiting room pushed to the back of his mind.
"Mr. Winchester?"
The sound of the veterinarian walking into the waiting room causes the brunette's head to snap up eagerly, even before he hears his name. He brushes his long hair out of his face and stands up out of his chair, at least six inches taller than Gabriel, with that look of mixed hope and fear that the doctor knows all too well from their two sort-of-encounters before. "Yes?"
"She's going to be fine," Gabriel tells him, and his sudden grin is so big and bright that it's impossible not to smile along with him. "Both front legs are broken, but not too badly, and there are a couple cracked ribs, but they should heal relatively quickly. She's a lucky girl," he adds, watching the man fall back down into his chair with relief.
"I was so worried..." he breathes, shaking his head. "Thank you so much, doctor...?"
"Last names are too formal; call me Gabriel. You may not want to thank me yet, though. We're gonna have to keep her at least overnight for testing, so you won't be able to take her home until –"
"Oh, she's not mine," the man corrects him. "I think she's a stray. I didn't... I just hit her."
Gabriel nodded, surprised. "You seemed so worked up about it, I thought she was yours."
"Nah, it's just... been a long day," the guy says with a forced smile.
Gabriel wonders if the man recognizes him. It would be impossible for him not to, but he sure isn't showing it if he does. Either way, the veterinarian makes a spontaneous decision to work this opportunity as much as he can. He knows that the guy has a thing for him, and the overly-tall, shaggy-haired man is even more attractive that he initially thought, now that he's seeing him close up. Might as well see what happens. After a quick glance at his watch, he begins, "Tell you what. My shift ends in about ten minutes, and then we'll go out and grab a bite. Sound good?"
"Oh no, I couldn't –"
"C'mon, I'm starving, and I could use the company. Ever been to the bakery down the street? It's delicieux," Gabriel says in a fake French accent, trying to disguise his hopeful encouragement with comedy.
The corner's of the man's chapped lips curl up in a small, but genuine, smile. Point for Gabriel. "I guess I'm pretty hungry, too."
"Excellente! I'll just get Goldilocks set up back there for the night, and we'll go."
"Goldilocks?"
"Gotta call her something," Gabriel shrugs – again, trying to play off his excitement with nonchalance. "Stay put, mon croissant."
"Did you just call me a croissant?"
"Vive la France!" the doctor sings as he skips off to the back room (so much for hiding that excitement).
The flaming red-headed receptionist laughs, a light tinkle that floats across the waiting room. "Don't mind him – he's just trying to impress you."
"Impress me?" the man repeats, confused.
"He doesn't actually speak French," Anna rolls her eyes. "He speaks melodramatic idiot, but that's about it."
The guy chuckles nervously and goes back to twiddling his thumbs until Gabriel reappears through the swinging doors, scrubs and coat shed in favor of a pair of ragged jeans with a few holes here and there and a crisp brown t-shirt.
"I feel a bit under-dressed compared to you, but this is all I got," he apologizes, gesturing at his casual attire.
"It's just a bakery," the guy waves him off, standing up again and tugging off his tie, "so it's actually me that's over-dressed."
"Ah, but you look good in a suit and tie, Mr. Winchester," the veterinarian winks, snatching the tie from his hands and looping it back around his neck, triggering a furious blush that spreads over the man's clean-shaven cheeks. "I'll see you on Monday, Anna, don't miss me too much," he calls back over his shoulder.
"Uh-huh. Bye, Gabriel," the redhead replies, rolling her eyes like she seems to do so often around him.
The doctor and his new companion walk out of the animal hospital side-by-side, hooking a left and making their way down the sidewalk, when the guy speaks.
"It's Sam," he says suddenly, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
"What's Sam?"
"My name. You don't have to keep calling me 'Mr. Winchester'. Like you said – last names are too formal."
Gabriel smiles and glances down at the ground, where his worn sneakers and Sam's polished wingtips move together in perfect harmony for a few steps, only to fall back out of sync because of the almost comical difference of their leg lengths. "Alright, then, Sam."
They walk in silence for a few moments, and then the veterinarian stops abruptly, tugging open the door of the bakery and motioning for Sam to go in first.
"Thanks," Sam murmurs, ducking through the doorway.
"You ever been here before?" Gabriel takes his place beside Sam as they stand before the counter, admiring in the array of pastries and treats spread out in front of them. This is one of the vet's favorite places to go because it's so close to the hospital, and they serve sandwiches and soups as well as baked goods, so they're open for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Not to mention, their cupcakes are to die for.
Sam shakes his head. "No, I don't usually eat stuff like this. I mean, I try to eat really healthy. Salads and grilled meat and stuff. I cook for myself most of the time."
"How noble," Gabriel teases, though he's actually very impressed. "The sandwiches here aren't bad, but I'm getting a whole boxful of my favorite goodies, and you're gonna try 'em all. I promise you'll love them."
"Oh, you don't have to –" Sam starts, but he is completely ignored. Gabriel strides up to the cashier and promptly orders two turkey sandwiches with the crust cut off, two bowls of fresh fruit (it is dinner, after all, and as long as he gets whipped cream it's all good), and a large container filled with an assortment of cupcakes, scones, croissants, bread rolls, and slices of pound cake. He pulls out a wad of cash and hands it over before Sam can so much as get out a word of protest.
"You really don't have to pay for it all, I can cover half," he says to the determined little man who just continues to ignore him.
"Seriously, it's on me. You're probably traumatized from hitting Goldilocks anyway. You need some sugar in your system," Gabriel tells him, walking away and heading for a small table in the corner of the bakery where he plops down into a chair.
"Don't remind me," Sam groans, following closely and taking the seat across from Gabriel. "I feel terrible about that."
"She's fine, really, I got her all fixed up. Accidents happen. She's probably feeling fantastic right now because of all the pain medications I hooked her up with. And you're getting dinner and a million desserts out of it, so if I were you, I wouldn't be complaining."
Sam smiles in amusement mixed with appreciation and rests his elbows on the table, reaching for the salt shaker and fiddling with it while they wait for their food. "Thank you, again. This is... really nice. I've had a long day, and this is definitely making me feel better."
Gabriel can feel himself beaming and opens his mouth to reply – with what, he isn't quite sure yet – but is cut off before he can even begin by the person behind the counter calling him up to grab their ready and waiting dinner plates.
They simultaneously dig into their turkey sandwiches, Gabriel having to defend himself against Sam's smirks not only at how the crust is cut off ("I don't like it, okay? Just... shut up."), but also at the ridiculous amount of whipped cream he asks to be added to his bowl of fruit.
"If you're gonna make fun of me, I'm just gonna leave," he sighs, moving to rise up out of his chair.
"No!" Sam cries out, latching onto the doctor's wrist with an outstretched hand, and then letting go just as quickly, so Gabriel hardly even knows it's happening before it's over. "I mean... don't... I'm sorry, I didn't –"
"You recognize me, right?" Gabriel blurts out. He surprises himself with his question and cringes a little at the bluntness of it, but carries on. "Because I recognize you. I know you look at me from your window. You're not as subtle about it as you think."
Sam turns white as a sheet and makes a face as if he's about to throw up, reminding the doctor of how he looked when he first ran into the hospital earlier that evening. "Oh God, I'm so sorry. It's not... I'm not trying to be creepy or anything, I swear. I just... ah, fuck." He runs his hands through his shoulder-length hair and glances out the front window of the bakery, biting his lip. "I'll leave now, and I won't bother you anymore, I promise. I'm really sorry. God, I'm so stupid," he mutters under his breath, pushing away from the table.
"You're not bothering me, you idiot," Gabriel says, smiling a little in spite of himself, and Sam freezes, gaping at him as if he had just revealed the secret to the universe. "If you were bothering me I wouldn't have taken you out to dinner. Hell, I wouldn't have offered to share my food with you, especially the sugary stuff. I don't do that with just anybody."
The brunette pulls his bottom lip between his teeth again, chewing on it thoughtfully before releasing it, slick with his saliva. He still looks dubious as he studies Gabriel's face carefully.
"And I definitely wouldn't ask you if you wanted to come over, because I've got some kick-ass movies back at my place that we could watch on a big screen while we work on this box of cavities," the veterinarian continues, nodding at the pink container of pastries laying on the table beside his plate. "So yeah, staring at a guy every morning on his way to work is a little on the creepy side. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't flattered, you're not a good-lookin' piece of man candy, and I don't wanna get to know you better, so maybe you'll actually wave back at me from that cute little window of yours once in a while."
Sam blushes furiously, and Gabriel is relieved to see some color back on those cheeks. There's also the fact that the guy's timidity is actually pretty damn cute.
"So what do you say?" he finishes, not even trying to hide the hope in his voice this time. "You wanna get outta here?"
Bright hazel eyes are still trained the doctor's face, and Sam is biting his lip again, obviously a nervous habit. His light brown hair bobs above his shoulders as he nods his head, and the reply comes out surprisingly steady, the most sure thing Sam has said all evening, music to Gabriel's ears.
"I'd love to."
"...fifty-two-inch plasma tv and surround sound," Gabriel is saying as he turns the key in the lock. "Put on a movie in high-definition, and it's like you're in heaven."
Sam smiles at his enthusiasm, standing in wait behind the shorter man with the large box of goods from the bakery cradled in his palms.
"Here goes nothin'," the veterinarian mutters under his breath.
The wooden door swings open to reveal a small, ordinarily tidy and cozy apartment that is absolutely nothing short of a disaster. Official hospital papers and bits of couch cushion fluff are scattered across the floor, the fuzzy red rug in the middle of the living room floor has been upended and dragged away from its usual spot, and there is a trail of what appears to be cookie crumbs leading from the kitchen all the way into the bedroom. There is a moment of stunned silence, the two men simply standing in the doorway staring at the mess, before Gabriel drops his keys to the floor and lets out a cross between a helpless sigh and a frustrated shout: "Strawberry, you get your ass out here!"
Claws can be heard scrambling across the hardwood floor in the bedroom and then a little red ball of fur comes flying in their direction. Sam takes a step back, startled, but Gabriel squats down and scoops it up into his arms before it can greet the new guest.
"Bad girl!" he scolds, holding her up to his face and glaring into her round, chocolate-brown eyes. "Very bad!"
Strawberry's tongue lolls out and she pants happily, wriggling in Gabriel's grip. She's quite small, only about six pounds, though her long coat of fur sticking out in all directions makes her look slightly bigger. The vet is angry that she made such a wreck of his home right before he brought over a rather special guest, but he has to admit, he's kind of impressed that something so tiny could inflict so much damage.
"I'm so sorry," Gabriel groans, shifting Strawberry to the crook of his right arm, ushering Sam inside the apartment. "It was clean before I left, honestly, but... I just moved her in here, and haven't gotten a chance to train her or anything. You can hang your coat up over there, if you want, and I'll make you something to drink before I clean all this up," he adds as he kicks the door shut behind them and flicks on a lamp before reaching down to retrieve his keys.
"No problem," Sam replies. He shrugs off his suit jacket and hooks it onto the coat-hanger behind the door, setting the box from the bakery down on the little table next to it. "You want me to help?"
"No, no, I can do it. It's probably not as bad as it looks. I just – jeez, Strawberry, calm down," Gabriel chides the dog licking his neck excitedly, though he's grinning a little. "You know, you make it really hard to stay mad at you."
Sam reaches out and takes a step forward. "You want me to hold her?"
"Yeah, actually, that'd be great," the veterinarian sighs, gently placing Strawberry in his guest's outstretched hands. "She doesn't bite or anything, so don't worry. She's just got a lot of energy."
"I can see that," Sam chuckles as the little dog jumps up on his chest and starts kissing his reddened cheeks.
Gabriel hides a smile and gets to work while Sam perches on the arm of the couch, playing with Strawberry. He should probably re-organize all of his paperwork, because most of it is important, but he'll do that later. For now he hurriedly stacks everything up in a pile and leaves it on the kitchen table, reaching instead for the broom and dustpan.
The apartment isn't much, even when it's clean, but Gabriel feels at home here. The main room holds a small brown couch with a matching leather armchair, both aimed at the television hung on the far wall. The whole place is painted a generic off-white color and most of the bigger furniture consists of neutral colors, but the bright accents in the décor give it some quirky character. A multicolored Mexican-style blanket is draped over the back of the couch (currently lacking one cushion, courtesy of Strawberry) and the lamp in the corner has a stained-glass type of shade around it that sends an array of tinted light throughout the living room. Off to the left, there is a small kitchen with quality baking equipment displayed tastefully on the walls and on the counter, and the refrigerator is covered with obnoxious magnets pinning up photographs of people and pets. The floors are hardwood but Gabriel has an assortment of soft rugs throughout the place, so bare feet hardly ever get chilled when wandering around.
When the floor is finally clear of pieces of cushion and crumbs (the fluffy little pest ate every last one of the oatmeal-raisin cookies his brother made, dammit), Gabriel leans against the kitchen counter to rest and looks over at Sam. Strawberry is laying contentedly in the man's oversized arms and he is stroking her head with two gentle fingers while his inquisitive hazel eyes are glued to the artwork hung on the walls of the apartment.
"You like them?"
Sam turns at the sound of Gabriel's voice and nods earnestly. "They're beautiful."
"I had a friend who was a really good artist," the vet tells him, gazing at the paintings wistfully. "She used to say her favorite thing to paint was angels. And since I'm named after an archangel... They're pretty, aren't they?"
"Are they supposed to be you?" Sam asks, furrowing his brow.
Gabriel laughs. "Nah, not these. She did paint me one time, though. C'mon, I'll show you."
He starts toward the bedroom and motions for Sam to follow. Pointing his finger at the big canvas hanging over his bed, Gabriel murmurs, "That one's me."
As soon as she had unveiled the piece, he knew that it was him. It looks exactly like him – well, except for the giant wings protruding from his shoulder blades, curled around his bare body to preserve his modesty. The detail is incredible, each delicate golden feather ruffled over ridges of muscle, every bit of it clearly defined. And looking into his own face is like looking into a mirror; there's the short blonde hair curled around his ears, angled eyebrows, long nose, thin lips.
"Your eyes," Sam murmurs. There isn't any reason to be quiet, but Gabriel understands – the painting is breathtaking. Summoning up the energy to fill his lungs enough to reach a normal volume feels nearly impossible. "They're gorgeous. She painted them perfectly."
Sparkling orbs of amber laced with gold stare down at them with an unfathomable intensity. The swirls of color are constantly shifting against the canvas, constantly changing, blending together in such a way that they are actually glowing, paint shimmering with light.
"Yeah, she was talented, alright." Gabriel skirts around the compliment, unsure of how to respond. He's always been sort of sensitive when talking about Kali and her artwork – in fact, he's not sure why he's even showing it to Sam to begin with. He usually prefers not to bring up ex-girlfriends when he's with a hot guy.
Thankfully, Strawberry chooses that moment to decide that she's no longer comfortable in Sam's arms and starts yapping until she's dropped down onto the floor, where she scampers off back to the living room to chew up who-knows-what else.
"You want something to drink?" Gabriel asks, relieved at the opportunity to change the subject.
Sam shoves his hands into his pockets and clears his throat. "Uh, yeah. Got any beer?"
"Beer?" Gabriel scoffs. "Oh, c'mon, you need something better to go with all the desserts we have. How about a cocktail?"
Suddenly, there's that smile, the same one from when he told the very worried Sam that Goldilocks was going to be okay, the one that could light up a pitch-black room, the contagious one that has Gabriel beaming back up at the man before he even realizes his lips moved.
"You know, that's actually perfect," Sam says with a hearty laugh. "I'm not much of a beer drinker, but my brother makes fun of me for it, so I thought I'd try to impress you. Guess not, huh?"
"Oh honey, ain't nothin' wrong with a good cocktail and a pink cupcake. Enjoying the finer things in life doesn't make you any less of a manly man," Gabriel winks, and Sam's cheeks go up in flames for the millionth time as he follows the shorter man out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.
They make easy conversation while Gabriel puts together the drinks. The veterinarian discovers that Sam is a lawyer, his favorite book is To Kill A Mockingbird, he's training to run a half-marathon, and he has a brother named Dean who seems to be even more irritating that Gabriel's own brothers.
"Seriously, he calls me in the middle of the night just because he's having some sort of mid-life crisis about his sexuality," Sam is ranting. "He's all upset because he used to be a huge womanizer, but now he can't think about anything else except this guy. Apparently he's got super blue eyes. 'You don't understand, Sam, they're so blue,'" he mocks his brother. "And you know, I don't really care if he's gay. It's like he was expecting me to make fun of him or something, but I'm the last person in a position do that."
"How come?" Gabriel asks, slipping the question in between a pause in Sam's words.
A sharp intake of breath catches in the shaggy-haired brunette's throat and he freezes with the answer hanging limp in the air over their heads. Gabriel can see him struggling for words, wrestling with his tongue, overwhelming shyness rushing back full force and rendering him speechless. "Uh... I... well..." Sam chuckles hollowly and rolls his shoulders in an effort to relax. "I'm not... um..."
"Straight?" Gabriel offers, and Sam immediately looks like a deer in headlights. Bingo. "Boy, would I be out of luck if you were," he continues, shrugging off the reveal to make his guest feel better. "Imagine – inviting a straight guy back to my apartment for drinks and desserts only to be completely rejected because of my lack of boobs. It'd be mortifying."
Sam laughs, and again, the stifling thickness of the air is instantly dissolved. It's already become an established pattern with them – Sam gets a little nervous, Gabriel relieves the tension. With every repeat of the cycle, there is more and more time in between the bouts of Sam's distress, and Gabriel counts that as a victory on his part. It's not hard to see that the guy is pretty uptight and stressed out in general, which is a stark contrast to the veterinarian's playful and easygoing nature, but they play off each other in such a way that it almost feels as if they're good for each other. That is, if they were to actually develop a relationship. Which Gabriel is totally not thinking about right now, considering they just met less than a few hours ago. That would be ridiculous.
"Alright, drinks are served," he announces, handing over a pinkish drink in a small cocktail glass, complete with one of those miniature umbrellas.
Sam takes a small sip and his eyebrows arch up in surprise. "Wow... This is fantastic."
"Oh stop, you're making me blush," Gabriel swoons dramatically. "You think this is good, just wait 'til you try the pound cake. Hang on, I'll get a couple plates and we'll go watch a movie on the couch while we eat. What do you say?"
"Sounds perfect," Sam agrees with a smile.
The vet grabs two plates and the box of pastries, along with a short stack of napkins, as he leads the way into the living room, making a beeline for the couch... which only has one cushion.
"Dammit, Strawberry," he mutters, throwing a glare in the little dog's direction where she's laying contentedly on her fluffy dog bed against the wall. "You can take the couch, Sam. I'll sit on the chair over there."
With what appears to be a disappointed slump of his shoulders at the distance forced between them (though maybe that's just Gabriel being hopeful), Sam lowers himself onto the couch, sinking comfortably into it. Gabriel busies himself distributing half a slice of pound cake onto each of the plates and pushes one into Sam's hands before turning to slip a DVD into the player.
"You like horror movies?" he asks.
"Are you kidding?" Sam scoffs good-naturedly. "They're awesome. But my brother won't ever watch 'em with me, because despite how macho he acts, he's really a big wuss."
"A man after my own heart, you are," Gabriel grins. "Ever seen 'House of Wax'?" When Sam shakes his head, his amber eyes light up. "You're gonna love it. It's not all that scary, but the actors are just delicious. My personal favorite is the guy who plays Wade."
"I'll keep an eye out for him," the lawyer says with a quirked eyebrow and slightly pursed lips. And Gabriel's not at all hoping that that's his jealous expression.
Gabriel grabs the remote and plops down into the armchair, setting his plate of pound cake in his lap. He glances over at Sam and notices that he hasn't tried any yet. "What, are you scared of the cake? I promise you'll like it. Cross my heart."
Sam shoots him an amused look, but nevertheless breaks off a piece with his fork, raising it to his lips and taking it into his mouth delicately. The soft sound of contentment that rises up from his throat does nothing to help the sudden spike of arousal Gabriel feels in his lower abdomen.
He clears his throat and ignores it, instead asking, "So? What do you think?"
"'S really good," Sam mumbles through a third forkful.
"I know," Gabriel replies smugly, happy that his guest appreciates his taste in sugary treats. He fiddles with the DVD remote before the title credits start, and then hops up to turn off the lights before settling back into his chair. "Alright, now you gotta pay attention to the beginning of the movie. It's important."
The brunette obediently sets his empty plate on the coffee table and leans back, crossing his ankle over his knee and folding his hands neatly in his lap. Gabriel has a hard time concentrating on the movie that he's seen twenty-something times before, entranced instead by Sam's focused face, brow furrowed as he eagerly soaks in the action, hazel eyes flashing with colors reflected from the screen. The young lawyer laughs at all the good jokes and recoils in horror at the all the appropriate moments, eyes remaining wide and curious, betraying the exhilaration he feels when afraid. And then suddenly those eyes are staring straight at Gabriel, somewhat narrowed in confusion.
Gabriel jumps when he finally notices, blinking repeatedly but not breaking eye contact. "I... uh..." He smiles, trying not to be embarrassed by the awkward staring he had been caught in. "You want a scone?"
Sam nods and returns the smile. "Yeah, sure."
Gabriel hops up and leans over the coffee table, easily splitting one of the scones in two and handing one half to Sam, chirping, "Bon appetit!"
Ignoring the plate, Sam instead reaches for the veterinarian's wrist, taking a light hold of it and asking in a soft voice, "There's enough room here... if you want to. I mean, it's just far from the food, and I was thinking that..."
"Yeah," Gabriel interrupts him suddenly, a knowing smile spreading over his face. "Yeah, I'll sit here. Scoot over."
Sam is already sitting against the arm rest, but he valiantly makes an effort to provide more room for Gabriel, who plops down easily into the space between his guest and the edge of the couch cushion, their hips snugly pressed together. It suddenly feels a lot hotter to Gabriel, and it isn't just him, either, because the young lawyer shifts his hips and clears his throat as if he's uncomfortable – oh, but Gabriel knows better. It's the kind of uncomfortable that comes from blood rushing south, pants suddenly getting a little too tight, skin heating up and tingling in sensitive places. The kind of uncomfortable that Gabriel is feeling himself, actually.
Something on screen jumps out and Sam jumps with it, effectively getting even closer to Gabriel, and then when he turns his head Sam is right there, staring down at him from a slight angle, lips parted, sugar-sweetened breath ghosting over the bridge of his nose, over his own lips, and when did he give his tongue permission to slip out and wet them, and why can't he look away from those hazel eyes that make him feel like he's drowning in them, flecks of brown and green surrounding a dark circle of pitch-black pupil, getting larger and closer, and closer...
It's a simple touch of lips, so soft that Gabriel isn't even certain that it's really happening, that it isn't just his imagination running away with him. But then he hears the sharp intake of breath, feels the shiver that run's down Sam's spine, and it's game over. Movie long forgotten, he wraps an arm around the lawyer's shoulders so that he can pull himself up higher, press their mouths together harder, and Sam just gives underneath him. He's climbing up onto his knees, trying to reach a better angle, tangling his fingers in the long mane of hair that is incredibly, unbelievably soft. A clatter of something falling to the floor behind them sounds like it's miles away as Sam's hands find their way up his back and claw at his shoulder blades impatiently, straining for more even though it's already so overwhelmingly good. And then Sam's tongue is running over his lips, and he meets it eagerly with his own, and it tastes like the air after rain, tangy and sweet and wet and so, so deliciously good, he's worried he may be addicted from just this one small taste.
But Sam pulls away, forcing out words between heavy breaths, and he forces himself to listen when he hears "Wait, Gabriel – wait."
"What is it?" he pants, thumbs stroking the line where the lawyer's jawline meets his neck, other fingers still curled in the hair at the base of Sam's skull.
"I'm sorry," Sam says quietly, eyes staring deep into Gabriel's own. "I know I should have said something before, because I probably freaked you out. I don't want you to think that I'm a stalker or anything. I just –"
"You stalk me?" Gabriel asks, mock-offended.
"No, no, I –"
"Sam," the doctor shushes him with a whisper of his own name, "it's okay, I know."
"I'm just so stupid and shy and I thought that maybe –"
Gabriel stops him this time with a chaste kiss. "You're cute when you're shy. And you're cute when you babble. And you're cute when you're standing up in that window looking at my ass."
"You have a nice ass," Sam growls suddenly, hands sliding down Gabriel's back, gripping tight right at the top of his thighs and yanking him around from where he's kneeling on the couch so that he falls over into Sam's lap, laying across it like a baby. He leans in for another kiss, rough and demanding, but it eases into a more slow and soft brushing of lips, Gabriel's hands twined around Sam's neck as Sam's hands cradle his shoulders.
They are suddenly interrupted by a little ball of red fur jumping up onto the couch with them, snuggling herself into the tiny crack between Gabriel and Sam's legs. Strawberry huffs contentedly and shows no signs of moving, even after they part and the doctor starts halfheartedly shoving at her.
"Well, fuck me," Gabriel murmurs in irritation at his dog.
"Maybe later," Sam says with a smirk. "I wanna see the end of the movie."
"Of course you do," the veterinarian groans, but he smiles nevertheless, and settles himself further down into Sam's lap, burrowing a hand into Strawberry's soft fur and nuzzling his head into Sam's broad chest. "You're really strong for a lawyer, you know."
"I work out. I told you, I'm gonna run a half-marathon," Sam reminds him patiently.
"Oh, right. Sorry Mr. Healthy, I forgot."
"You gonna come cheer for me at the finish line?" Sam teases.
Gabriel turns his head and pecks a light cheek on his clean-shaven jaw. "You bet, mon croissant."