ladydrace | Sometimes They Run 2/12

Title: Sometimes They Run.
Part: 2/12
Fandom: Supernatural.
Pairings: Sam/Gabriel (and kinda sorta Castiel/Balthazar).
Rating: R (For language mostly. Lots of F-bombs.)
Word count: 30.234
Spoilers: None really, although it helps if you know who Gabriel and Balthazar are.
Warnings: Lots and lots of swearing. Age difference.
Feedback: Yes please.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything even remotely related to Supernatural. (But if anyone wanted to give me Gabriel for Christmas I sure wouldn't complain.)
Beta:

mithrel was a champion for taking on this monster and teaching me a few new tricks along the way. THANK YOU!
Notes: Human AU.
Summary: The story of how Sam got the sweetest job in history and how Gabriel learned how to run away. In which there are cute dogs, texting, boners and friends with benefits. There's trouble in Winchester-land, Balthazar butts in a lot, and Gabriel's brothers are dicks, except for the one you least expect.

Chapter 2.

True to his word, Gabriel wrote up a contract that night and left it on his counter for Sam to sign when he came in. He trusted Sam well enough, but he still took Chewie for an extra long walk in the morning before leaving. He was still feeling like an ass for being late the day before, and despite his new employee, he was also feeling guilty over planning to stay just as late this evening. But Chewie just licked Gabriel's face and happily snuggled into his doggy bed when Gabriel locked the door behind him with a heavy heart.

Work was draining as always, and demanded his complete attention, so in the end he was too busy to spend much time worrying. When he dragged himself home that night, fearing the worst for no definable reason, he opened the door to find Chewie passed out on the couch, and a note from Sam saying they had been to the park and played fetch until he'd had to carry the terrier home. The contract was signed and Sam had taken his own copy home with him.

Everything was quiet, comfortable and taken care of... and Gabriel hated it.

But, as he had reminded himself pretty much every day since graduating college, that was life as a Milton. You joined the family business, got richer than you already were, paid poor people to do the everyday jobs, and spent your limited free time courting people as rich as yourself. He'd never felt at home in that life, but he'd never been brave enough to leave. Because Michael and Luke might be on opposites sides every day of their lives, but the one time Gabriel had brought up the idea of doing something other than the family business, they had presented a frighteningly united front and frankly scared the crap out of him. So that was a no-go.

With a heavy sigh Gabriel texted Michael, asking him when his next get-together was, so he at least could work on getting laid. The happy reply should have pleased Gabriel, but it only served to make him even more down-hearted. He went to bed feeling old and pathetic, and dreamed of tall, floppy-haired boys with open smiles and big hands.

* * *

“So,” Kali purred the following Saturday, “I hear you finally hired yourself an assistant!”

“Dog walker, actually,” Gabriel corrected mildly. Kali was one of the few people Gabriel liked talking to at these damn fancy parties, so he just smiled and sipped his drink. They'd had a fling a few years back, and they were still friends of a sort. But Kali owned the high society life in a way Gabriel never could, and he tended to stick to her at times like these. Which was totally counter-productive, since he was mainly here to try and get lucky.

“Pfft, titles are moot. But seriously, if you're hiring people, Hell must be freezing over.”

“Hey, I have a cleaning lady!”

“Only because Luke fired her and you're a softie.”

Gabriel couldn't really argue with that, so he settled for shrugging vaguely.

“Wow,” Kali went on, “For you to actually hire someone on your own steam he must be extraordinary. Is he hot?”

“Wouldn't you like to know.” He thought he'd been smooth about it, but dammit, Kali knew him to well.

“He is!” she said gleefully.

“He's also still in school, way too young, so don't you start,” Gabriel grumbled.

“Aw, don't you know that true love has no age?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Even if it wouldn't be totally unethical to sleep with my employee, he would still be too young. And if I was planning on getting it on with my dog walker, why the hell would I be here?”

Kali shrugged. “Just saying. It certainly never hurts to look,” she added, letting her eyes slide over one of the waiters breezing by.

“True enough.” But everywhere Gabriel looked, all he could see were people wearing too much makeup, too expensive clothes, and too fake smiles. And to top it off, they were all deemed too short, too blonde or too not-Sam in general. Gabriel was so screwed. To Michael's immense disapproval, Gabriel went home early, and then spent the night with his Casa Erotica collection pretty much out of pure spite towards his treacherous heart.

* * *

It was late afternoon on the first Monday after hiring Sam when Gabriel got a text from him.

[Your cleaning lady is scary.]

Gabriel was confused for all of two seconds before he groaned to himself in his empty office.

[Shit. Forgot to tell Lana about you, didn't I?] he texted back.

If a text alert could sound peevish, Gabriel could have sworn his did when the reply came.

[Yes you did. Thank god I still had the contract in my coat, or she woulda called the cops on me.]

[Yeikes. Sorry. :S I gotta buy her some flowers or something.]

[Oh, btw she told me to tell you, and I quote: if he wants to make it up to me, forget flowers, gimme a bigger Christmas bonus.]

[Right, gotcha. Gotta love a woman who knows what she wants.]

[Clearly what she does NOT want is me and my boots in your home on Monday afternoons. I can walk Chewie in the early evening on Mondays instead if that's okay with you?]

[Sure, whatever you can work out.]

Gabriel realized he was cradling the phone with a goofy smile on his face and forced himself to put it down and go back to work. But it was barely another two minutes before there was another text.

[What about me though, don't I get anything? I was the one who almost got beat up with a mop!]

[Well that depends. Do you want flowers or a bonus?] Gabriel pressed send before he could regret it, and spent the next minute or so telling himself he was being an idiot. He lunged at the phone when it beeped again.

[Would it be too cheeky if i said both? :p]

Gabriel could literally feel his entire face being pulled crooked from the enormous grin caused by Sam's innocent, yet definitely flirtatious message. He had to put down the phone and bang his head onto his desk a couple of times before he felt he was able to type out something vaguely coherent.

[Yes. But I like cheeky. ;) ]

Sadly, it seemed that coherent didn't necessarily equal tasteful, and Gabriel banged his head on his desk a few more times, desperately telling himself he did not just flirt heavily with his much too young employee. Except for the fact that he totally did.

[Awesome. FYI: I like tulips.]

Gabriel didn't get a lot of work done that day. He did, however, spend an awful lot more time banging his head on his desk. Enough so that his secretary even came in at one point to ask if he was okay. Even as he sent her a flat smile and assured her that 'yes he was fine' he had never been more aware of how not fine he was just then. As much as those persistent butterflies in his stomach tried to convince him otherwise.

* * *

Months went by with Gabriel's hours only getting longer and Chewie getting fitter. Sam was really taking his job seriously, not only giving Chewie the opportunity to mark territory but also making the extra effort of giving the small dog some actual exercise, something Gabriel hadn't found time to do in far too long. When Sam made an offhand comment that he wished Gabriel could see Chewie going at it on the small agility course he'd gone to a couple of times at a local dog kennel, Gabriel decided to ignore Sam's vehement protests and bought him a new phone.

Sam's cell was ancient and could probably serve as a doorstop better than it could as an actual phone, yet Sam insisted it worked fine. But Sam's thoughtless remark gave Gabriel the argument he needed to get Sam to accept the gift. All Gabriel had to do was to pull out a good old guilt trip about not getting to see his sweet little doggy ever, and before he knew it he was being bombarded with texts, all full of high resolution pictures of his ecstatic terrier and occasionally, when it was clearly his lucky day, a smiling Sam next to both dogs.

Gabriel could hardly remember a time when he'd smiled this much. It should really have made all sorts of warning bells go off in his head. But instead he let the warm and fuzzy feelings thoroughly take over his mind, sitting in his office every day looking through pictures of tail-wagging dogs and a dimpled face going steadily more brown from all the outdoor activity as summer slid into autumn. And if he happened to go home just a little earlier on Mondays just in case he might bump into Sam, then nobody was asking, and Gabriel wasn't telling.

He kept his promise to Sam and tried to come up with additional duties for him to do, but apart from a couple of dry-cleaning runs, he simply couldn't think of anything. So Sam apparently decided to take matters into his own hands. Gabriel came home one night to a note on his fridge.

[Made dinner. Heat up in microwave. Hope you're not allergic to something. Either way, it can only be better than junk food and candy bars. YOU NEED VEGGIES! Enjoy!

- Sam.]

Gabriel read and re-read the note at least five times before he shook himself out of his stunned surprise and opened the fridge where a casserole was waiting to be heated. For a long, quiet moment he just stood there, staring at the simple offering and feeling, absurdly, close to tears. Chewie finally came trotting over to see what was so interesting in the fridge, and bumped Gabriel's leg with his nose when he didn't move. Gabriel finally snapped out of it and bent down to rub Chewie's ears before taking out the casserole and heating it. It was chunky, a little too salty and clearly made from mostly preserved ingredients, just like most student meals would be.

It was the best meal Gabriel had had in years.

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