Gabriel would be the first to admit that Sam was a damn good specimen of a man. And he would tell you why as embarrassingly as possible. There were always the obvious things like "Tall, strong, sensitive and handsome" that people always seemed to go on about. But there was also the fact that sometimes he looked very smart and refined in slacks and button-down shirts, and other days where he wore flannels and ripped jeans that made him look like a gargantuan hipster. There was also the way he snorted when he was annoyed and trying not to laugh. Not to mention, despite his size he was very considerate and gentle, but also wasn't afraid to show when he was angry.
Sam never let Gabriel think he was a pushover. If Gabriel really got on his nerves he knew right away, whether it was the tightening of the mouth and straightening of the posture or the way he sort of... loomed.
Maybe it wasn't even on purpose.
All Gabriel knew was that he appreciated the way Sam's eyes squinted when he laughed.
Perhaps that was not so good.
Oh well.
Gabriel always saved him a little bit of healthy-ish, sweet but not too sweet pastry or dark chocolate or a sandwich because it made him smile and it wasn't as if the food was going anywhere else once the diner closed. Bakery? Chocolaterie? Who the fuck cared. It was a shop that sold food and it was shiny and glitzy and he loved being able to run a place of his own.
And the name made Sam roll his eyes and snort every time he saw the sign—loudly proclaiming, in golden letters, "Manna from Heaven." There was even a goddamn halo over the H and Gabriel loved it and Sam thought it was terrible. But Gabriel tended to be a fan of terrible. After all, not just any non-terrible man would willingly decorate the black walls of his bakery-cum-diner-cum-candy store with huge gold-framed pictures of multi-colored sheep—pink, blue, luminescent, anything. All strange abstract paintings that were completely unrelated to the rest of the decor. One of the sheep even had three eyes.
Gabriel liked them though. And it seemed the customers liked the food more than they didn't like the paintings because he still had plenty of traffic.
Whatever. He was a damn good cook and he knew it. (And Sam clearly knew it too because sometimes, Gabriel swore, he ate half of his hard work.)