Work Text:
(Un)Lucky Encounters
Some days just sucked. That was life and Sam had got used to it years ago. While studying at Stanford, he had tried his damnedest to be the best in all his classes, since him staying there, and getting a free ride with the scholarship, had depended on his marks. Besides, it had been Sam's goal to be on the top of the class because he had wanted to prove others at home, and himself especially, that he could do it. That he could become a lawyer and help people in need. Dean would always tell him how smart he was and that he was brains of the family. Although his brother was intelligent as well and could have gone to a university of his own choice, he had preferred to stay with their uncle, Bobby, and dedicate his life to working on cars - rare and old models - repairing them and giving them a new look. Dean would say that he had been giving them a new life, a new beginning. If only he knew how weird it sounded to strangers, or his customers, when he talked about the cars like his children.
Anyway, what was he thinking? Oh, yeah. Life sucked. And today it sucked big time since the morning. First, Sam hadn't heard his alarm go off and slept in, but that had happened to him several times already. No big deal, right? Sam had created this pattern for himself how to get to work as fast as possible without his boss realizing it and even buy coffee for him on the way. But karma was a bitch and today wasn't his lucky day. Sam had got stuck in traffic, then managed to spill the coffee on his shirt - a new one on top of that - so he had to get a clean one from one of his colleagues. Unfortunately, his height and overall size of his body wasn't exactly the winner for average, so when he had eventually stepped into his boss's office, he had known that he had been screwed that day.
And because the world didn't think that it had been enough for him, his arrogant and snobbish boss had come early to the office, earlier than usual, and of course, he had noticed all the bad things he could have. Sam had stormed off the office like a hurricane right to the little kitchenette, wishing all the way that he could get something stronger than coffee, that even Becky, a girl from the firm, who had stalked him for months through the building - thank God, not outside - hadn't tried to peep a word when they had met in the hall.
There had been other moments that morning which Sam would rather forget, and his "luck" had continued on and on until the clock had marked the fifth hour pm and his sigh of relief and exhaustion could have been heard all the way to the other room. Sometimes Sam wished he had chosen something different for his studies, because this wasn't what he had imagined it to be. But then, he would straighten his back, clench his jaw, and move on.
Sam should have known that rotten luck would stuck around for a while longer and follow him home. In his distraction, he had almost run into a moving car when crossing the road, the driver hadn't been happy about his apparent "clumsiness", calling him names and whatnot, cursing like a sailor, though nothing had been damaged - except Sam's belief that he would reach his cramped apartment safe and sound. Then in half-way home, Sam had realized that he had forgotten all his work - loads of it - in his office. Having to turn around, he had rushed his steps back so he wouldn't have to spend more time outside his sanctuary than necessary. That whole day just couldn't get worse, right? RIGHT? Well...
When Sam had finally stashed all the papers into his well-worn bag, he had decided to go and grab a coffee from this little and cosy café. It was on the way, so, why not? He still had been too distracted, thinking about the upcoming case, how much he would have to read on it to prepare himself - or more like do the preparation for his idiotic boss - so he hadn't watched the road in front of him, and because he was so huge - the majority of people would tell him that - he hadn't noticed this guy going in the opposite direction. Another disaster coming right there.
"Oomph," Sam registered a strained sound coming from the guy, who was currently laying flat on the sidewalk, papers flying everywhere around them both, "fuck, man! Watch where you're going," the man cursed, too loudly for Sam's tastes, as he glared at him with passion. The problem was that Sam's coffee had ended up spilt on those papers a little and when the guy had got a note of that, his cheeks reddened in anger and there was another train of curses flowing from his mouth.
"Fuck, shit, shit, shit, shit," the man cursed and cursed, producing the words like trees the oxygen, "you're kidding me, right? Fuck! I'm so dead. This day should fucking end right now," he groaned, tugging at his hair and making them an even bigger mess, as he started catching the flying pieces from the air and assessing the damage of those on the sidewalk. And what Sam did? He just stared and stared and stared, as if frozen, his eyes wide open in both dread and shock. He just didn't know which feeling was winning the battle. Sam had never met this guy before, though this was quite frequent path for the people of this side of the city and he couldn't possibly remember every face he had seen, somehow, Sam knew that he had never seen this face; those expressive eyes of gold, or amber, whatever colour it was, were so beautiful, he couldn't tear his gaze from them. Even though they were flashing anger at him, Sam took it just so he could be the recipient of their fire. Maybe he was becoming a poet and starting a poetry club at that moment, but who cared. That guy didn't stop cursing during the whole encounter, picking up papers, trying to clean them from the splashes of coffee. At least it wasn't so bad than it had looked earlier.
"Hey, buddy, stop staring. Why you staring? Are you laughing at me right now?" The man asked angrily and there was something else as well in there. Shame? Hurt?
"What?" Sam blurted out. So smooth, Winchester, so smooth. He cursed himself for the lack of better response on his tongue, "I'm not laughing at you."
"Oh, really?" The man asked accusingly, looking at Sam with the papers clenched in his arms like some kind of treasure.
"Yes, really. I'm sorry, man," Sam started, his tone apologetic, as he tried to look into the man's eyes but not quite able to. They were piercing him through and through like two laser beams, "I was distracted and I didn't watch where-"
"Yeah, yeah, cut the bullshit, I don't care," the man said, not believing anything what Sam had to say, as he turned around and started to walk off without any other word, still cursing under his nose. Sam was so stunned by the events that his ability to talk had flown right out of his completely blank mind. Words were essential for his job. Sam was good with words but this man, short with a sharp tongue and fierce eyes, had totally stolen them away.
Apparently, there was some brain cells left in his skull after all and before the guy would disappear forever from the surface of the earth, Sam forced his long legs into moving, jogging after him, rounding the corner of the street, not even caring that it was going to be a very awkward conversation and maybe he would get a kick into his crotch, but if there was any chance to get to know this guy more, Sam would take that goddamned chance.
"Hey," Sam called after him, stopping just a few steps behind him. The man, whose name was still unknown, started up a little, his back stiff and his shoulders tense. Was the guy afraid of him? Sam frowned at the idea.
"What?" The man snapped nervously, all the boldness gone from his face and posture. His eyes were dimmed more than Sam would expected and it surprised him into silence again, "Cat got your tongue, or what? I'd think your prank, or revenge of some kind, worked pretty well. What else d'you want?"
"Whoah," Sam uttered with shock, raising his hands in placating gesture, "I'm not sure what you're talking about but I'm just a guy who's got batshit luck today and happened to run into you. It was an accident, promise." Sam explained and hoped that he didn't sound creepy or stalkerish at the same time. The man gazed at him for a few minutes, obviously trying to find out if he was lying.
"Okay, well, what d'you want then? Why are you following me?" The man asked again and there was a hint of curiosity in his voice.
"Oh, that," Sam stuttered as he smiled nervously, feeling his cheeks warming up in embarrassment. What a good start, Winchester, "I mean, d'you need some help, with those?" Sam pointed at the papers the man was still pressing onto his chest, "I just thought I'd ask, since it was my fault," Sam finished, red as a ripe tomato, not quite able to look into the guy's eyes, just glancing here and there to assess the situation he was in with him. There was amusement growing in the man's eyes, brightening them up like two pieces of life amber. Oh, for God's sake, stop with the poetry.
"Well, you could do something for me," the man said finally after a few minutes of silence, leaving Sam in doubts about his actions. Sam raised his eyebrows in question, waiting for more, "You could buy me some of that coffee. It smelled delicious and I wanna know where you got it," he said with a smirk. Was he flirting? Seriously?!
"Well, I could-" Sam started.
"Good!" The guy exclaimed cheerfully, "lead the way, then, gigantor!"
"Wha-," Sam uttered, shocked and again unable to response in actual words like a civilized human being.
"No whats, come on," the guy pushed him forward, which coaxed Sam's lower limbs into motion. Even though he still couldn't comprehend what was going on here, he would play along as long as the man would touch him again.
"Okay," Sam managed to blurt out after a while of walking beside the man who had never stopped smirking, mischief visible in his eyes. They didn't even know each other's names and there they were, going for a coffee like they had known each other already.
What a crazy day it had been.
"Errr...I'm Sam, by the way," Sam mumbled, suddenly too shy around the guy whose confidence grew by each second.
"Gabriel. Nice to meet you, Samsquatch," he said, glancing at Sam and smirking at his bitchface. Whatever. It was better than Samantha. Ugh.