Golfer of the Year- Fic, Sam/Gabriel
Supernatural Fic.
AU- Country Club
Rating: PG-13
(--*--)
Sam glared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked ridiculous.
“I look ridiculous.”
“Yeah.” Bobby snorted, glancing up from his newspaper. “Well you should have thought of that before you pissed off the boss-man’s daughter.”
Sam heaved a sigh. He’d always felt working at the Morning Star country club was hell on Earth, but now he had total, unerring proof. He growled at Bobby, who wasn’t even trying to act like he wasn’t laughing at Sam’s pain, and stomped out of the staff room.
He tugged awkwardly at the corner of his orange and green argyle sweater-vest. He’d been relegated to golf caddy duty as a punishment, and he was pretty sure it was the worst possible punishment he could have been given. The uniforms weren’t designed for people of Sam’s sizeable stature, and he felt hideously tentish in his cream canvas trousers. And did he mention the sweater vest? Because… yeah. Yuck.
Not to mention he knew nothing about golf. Less than nothing. Sam had never even played mini-golf, forget caddying some stuck-up old fart over an eighteen hole course.
He tried to draw as little attention to himself as possible as he approached the front desk. Pamela smirked at him from the safety of the reception.
“Oh, Grumpy…”
“Don’t. Please.”
“But hun, you’re all… golfy.”
“Yeah, I know.”Sam sighed, and leant against the desk. “Can we just get this over with?”
“There’s a guy just waiting outside the locker rooms, says he needs a caddy, if you’re desperate for a job.” She smiled. “But he’s… well, there’s a reason no one else has volunteered yet.”
Sam grimaced, but trudged dutifully towards the locker rooms. When he got there, he was blinded, amused, horrified and mortified, simultaneously, to see the one being in the world who was dressed worse than he was.
“Ah.” Said the guy. “A new caddy… fresh meat.”
The guy was grinning ear to ear, the sunlight shining on his slick, caramel-coloured hair, which emerged in tufts from under the brim of a Burberry patterned flat cap. He had a shark-tooth patterned sweater over a pink office shirt, and brown and white plaid plus fours which went out to ridiculous levels of bagginess before tucking into argyle socks. Sam could do nothing but goggle at so many clashing patterns concentrated into such a relatively small space. The man grinned and started walking towards the first hole.
“Let’s play some golf! Yeah!”
Sam, morbidly curious, grabbed the guy’s club bag and wandered after him.
“So, I don’t think I’ve seen your face before.” The walking sale-rack grinned at him. “New?”
“Temporary.” Sam scowled. “I’m usually a mechanic, and I should probably level with you now, I don’t know anything about golf.”
“Really?” The other man seemed surprised for a moment, and Sam waited for the barrage of accusations concerning his professionalism and how he was besmirching the name of a good establishment. But the other guy just grinned.
“Awesome. I don’t know anything about it either; I just like throwing my balls around in frankly ludicrous pants.”
He wiggled his eyebrows at Sam, seeming all the more amused at his befuddled expression, before extending a hand.
“Gabriel.”
“Sam.”
“Pleasure meeting you. And I have to say, it’s a good thing you’re only a temp.”
“Really?”
“You look ridiculous in that sweater-vest.”
(--*--)
They made it to the fifth hole, which was a slow, wide slope with a water hazard on one side and a small thicket of trees on the other. It seemed to Sam that Gabriel really did play more for the ability to walk in the scenery and people-watch than out of any regard for the rules. Every now and then, he would ask Sam for the camera that sat inside one of the pockets on his club bag, and he would take very carefully set up pictures, playing with perspectives and the undulating landscape. At one point, he took a photo that made it look like a giant seagull was about to eat one of the unknowing party in front of them. Apparently, trick photography was something of a hobby.
Gabriel smiled as he teed up, taking the moment to survey the landscape.
“I have to say, pretty much all the other caddies would have given up on me by now. By hole five they’re finding excuses to leave me lugging my own stuff around, just because they don’t know what to do with me.”
“Really?” Sam leant against the golf club bag. “That’s kind of harsh… But then, I know they all take golf seriously. It’s one of the requirements for getting hired.”
“Wow. So how’d you ever get a job?” Gabriel grinned, standing up and sidling over to where Sam stood.
“Like I said, I’m a temp.” He shrugged. Gabriel didn’t buy it, and gave him a look that said as much. Sam sighed. “It’s a punishment.”
“For what?”
“Well I’m normally the mechanic who keeps the golf carts tuned up and looks after the boss’ cars. But my brother, Dean, is the valet. And he has a habit of… um… ‘testing out’ cars he likes the look of.”
“Ooh.” Gabriel grinned, bouncing up and down as he leant on the other side of the golf bag. “Joy-rider! Who’s car did you get caught in?”
“It was just that one time, I’d never agreed to it before, but…”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re an upstanding citizen. Come on, which big-wig caught you burnin’ donuts into the asphalt?”
Sam sighed, but couldn’t fight back the infectious smile he’d caught off Gabriel.
“Meg.”
Gabriel blinked at him.
“Shut up. Meg the heiress? Meg the bitch who acts like she already owns this place? Meg the ‘daddy says kiss my ass’ girl? That Meg?”
“That Meg.” Sam nodded. “You know her?”
“I think everyone who’s spent more than a half hour in this club knows her. Yow… Please, please tell me you dented it or scratched it or something.”
“Well… in fairness, we wouldn’t have damaged the car if she hadn’t run out in front of us and made us swerve into a wall.”
“Oh…” Gabriel looked like he was savouring this delicious story, gazing at Sam with newfound awe and respect. “You… I like you, Sam. I am eternally grateful that you told me that story.”
“Uh… you’re welcome?” Sam laughed, smiling down at the strange little man. Then he realised quite how close they were standing, and backed off. “So, uh… which club are you using on this one?”
“Oh…” If Gabriel had spotted Sam’s awkwardness, he certainly didn’t seem perturbed by it. He glanced out over the course. “How about the one that looks like a mini-golf stick?”
“This one?”
“Yeah, why not?”
Sam had never met a man like Gabriel before, and he’d certainly never seen one dressed like Gabriel jump up and down and swear as his golf ball sailed through the air and straight into a small thicket of trees, but as they fumbled through the branches, still exchanging stories and joking, he was glad he had. By the time they got all the way through to the eighteenth hole, Sam had walked more than he had in a long time, and he found himself almost sad that he had to traipse back to the lodge and wait for some other, entirely more boring person to show up.
“So…” Gabriel leaned over his club, Bob Hope style. “Would you care to join me at the nineteenth for a drink or two? I’d say we deserve it.”
“Can’t.” Sam sighed, hefting the club bag onto his shoulder. “Club rules.”
“Ah.” Gabriel nodded, looking down at his golf ball and lining himself up to swing. “And we wouldn’t want you getting in more trouble than you already are.”
“Yeah… Maybe some other time though?” Sam flushed a little, as Gabriel sliced another shot a good twelve yards away from where it was supposed to go, and Sam couldn’t tell whether it was Gabriel’s poor golfing skills or if he’d been shocked at Sam’s words. Gabriel just smiled up at him and started down the hill.
“Maybe.”
Unsurprisingly, Gabriel was the only interesting person Sam got to deal with throughout his week of caddy punishment. From pompous know-it-alls to snobby good-for-nothings, he got all the worst people that the other caddies knew to avoid. Sam was almost glad to crawl back into the mechanic’s garage and spend the day covered in oil and up to his elbows in a faulty motor.
He hadn’t been expecting a visitor. Especially not while he was dealing with a burst gauge which meant he got a face full of motor oil.
“Hey, sasquatch, you’ve got a little something…” the figure motioned in the general area of his face. “Well… everywhere.”
Sam almost didn’t recognise him, what with his being dressed not just like a normal human being, but a fairly classy one at that.
“Gabriel… hey. You look… I’m glad you finally got someone else to dress you.”
“Ha.” Gabriel smirked, wandering further into the garage, observing his surroundings. “Nah, I’m not here golfing today, it’s… more of a business call.”
“So you can dress normally… good to know.”
“Yeah, that outfit’s reserved specially to cause shock and outrage in the people who take golf seriously. Like my brother. Speaking of which, am I right in thinking you’ve had to work every day this week?”
“Yeah, part of the punishment; I’m pulling double shifts.”
“Ooh…” Gabriel smirked. “Well, call me your own personal genie, because shazam! Now you have the evening off. You also get the next two days free.”
Sam blinked at him for a moment.
“What?”
Gabriel smiled, looking slightly sheepish.
“I may have obscured certain details concerning my connection to the management… and I may have slightly more pull with the boss than his bitch of a daughter because… well, let’s just say he owes me.”
“Huh.” Sam grinned, grabbing one of the rags nearby to wipe the oil off his face. “So… thanks, I guess.”
“Eh.” Gabriel shrugged. “It wasn’t purely out of charity. I was hoping to chase you up on that offer of a drink.”
Sam smiled, and nodded.
“Sure. Just let me get changed and we can go.”
Sam had never met a man like Gabriel before. But he was glad he had, so much that almost wanted to kiss Meg the next time he saw her.
AU- Country Club
Rating: PG-13
(--*--)
Sam glared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked ridiculous.
“I look ridiculous.”
“Yeah.” Bobby snorted, glancing up from his newspaper. “Well you should have thought of that before you pissed off the boss-man’s daughter.”
Sam heaved a sigh. He’d always felt working at the Morning Star country club was hell on Earth, but now he had total, unerring proof. He growled at Bobby, who wasn’t even trying to act like he wasn’t laughing at Sam’s pain, and stomped out of the staff room.
He tugged awkwardly at the corner of his orange and green argyle sweater-vest. He’d been relegated to golf caddy duty as a punishment, and he was pretty sure it was the worst possible punishment he could have been given. The uniforms weren’t designed for people of Sam’s sizeable stature, and he felt hideously tentish in his cream canvas trousers. And did he mention the sweater vest? Because… yeah. Yuck.
Not to mention he knew nothing about golf. Less than nothing. Sam had never even played mini-golf, forget caddying some stuck-up old fart over an eighteen hole course.
He tried to draw as little attention to himself as possible as he approached the front desk. Pamela smirked at him from the safety of the reception.
“Oh, Grumpy…”
“Don’t. Please.”
“But hun, you’re all… golfy.”
“Yeah, I know.”Sam sighed, and leant against the desk. “Can we just get this over with?”
“There’s a guy just waiting outside the locker rooms, says he needs a caddy, if you’re desperate for a job.” She smiled. “But he’s… well, there’s a reason no one else has volunteered yet.”
Sam grimaced, but trudged dutifully towards the locker rooms. When he got there, he was blinded, amused, horrified and mortified, simultaneously, to see the one being in the world who was dressed worse than he was.
“Ah.” Said the guy. “A new caddy… fresh meat.”
The guy was grinning ear to ear, the sunlight shining on his slick, caramel-coloured hair, which emerged in tufts from under the brim of a Burberry patterned flat cap. He had a shark-tooth patterned sweater over a pink office shirt, and brown and white plaid plus fours which went out to ridiculous levels of bagginess before tucking into argyle socks. Sam could do nothing but goggle at so many clashing patterns concentrated into such a relatively small space. The man grinned and started walking towards the first hole.
“Let’s play some golf! Yeah!”
Sam, morbidly curious, grabbed the guy’s club bag and wandered after him.
“So, I don’t think I’ve seen your face before.” The walking sale-rack grinned at him. “New?”
“Temporary.” Sam scowled. “I’m usually a mechanic, and I should probably level with you now, I don’t know anything about golf.”
“Really?” The other man seemed surprised for a moment, and Sam waited for the barrage of accusations concerning his professionalism and how he was besmirching the name of a good establishment. But the other guy just grinned.
“Awesome. I don’t know anything about it either; I just like throwing my balls around in frankly ludicrous pants.”
He wiggled his eyebrows at Sam, seeming all the more amused at his befuddled expression, before extending a hand.
“Gabriel.”
“Sam.”
“Pleasure meeting you. And I have to say, it’s a good thing you’re only a temp.”
“Really?”
“You look ridiculous in that sweater-vest.”
(--*--)
They made it to the fifth hole, which was a slow, wide slope with a water hazard on one side and a small thicket of trees on the other. It seemed to Sam that Gabriel really did play more for the ability to walk in the scenery and people-watch than out of any regard for the rules. Every now and then, he would ask Sam for the camera that sat inside one of the pockets on his club bag, and he would take very carefully set up pictures, playing with perspectives and the undulating landscape. At one point, he took a photo that made it look like a giant seagull was about to eat one of the unknowing party in front of them. Apparently, trick photography was something of a hobby.
Gabriel smiled as he teed up, taking the moment to survey the landscape.
“I have to say, pretty much all the other caddies would have given up on me by now. By hole five they’re finding excuses to leave me lugging my own stuff around, just because they don’t know what to do with me.”
“Really?” Sam leant against the golf club bag. “That’s kind of harsh… But then, I know they all take golf seriously. It’s one of the requirements for getting hired.”
“Wow. So how’d you ever get a job?” Gabriel grinned, standing up and sidling over to where Sam stood.
“Like I said, I’m a temp.” He shrugged. Gabriel didn’t buy it, and gave him a look that said as much. Sam sighed. “It’s a punishment.”
“For what?”
“Well I’m normally the mechanic who keeps the golf carts tuned up and looks after the boss’ cars. But my brother, Dean, is the valet. And he has a habit of… um… ‘testing out’ cars he likes the look of.”
“Ooh.” Gabriel grinned, bouncing up and down as he leant on the other side of the golf bag. “Joy-rider! Who’s car did you get caught in?”
“It was just that one time, I’d never agreed to it before, but…”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re an upstanding citizen. Come on, which big-wig caught you burnin’ donuts into the asphalt?”
Sam sighed, but couldn’t fight back the infectious smile he’d caught off Gabriel.
“Meg.”
Gabriel blinked at him.
“Shut up. Meg the heiress? Meg the bitch who acts like she already owns this place? Meg the ‘daddy says kiss my ass’ girl? That Meg?”
“That Meg.” Sam nodded. “You know her?”
“I think everyone who’s spent more than a half hour in this club knows her. Yow… Please, please tell me you dented it or scratched it or something.”
“Well… in fairness, we wouldn’t have damaged the car if she hadn’t run out in front of us and made us swerve into a wall.”
“Oh…” Gabriel looked like he was savouring this delicious story, gazing at Sam with newfound awe and respect. “You… I like you, Sam. I am eternally grateful that you told me that story.”
“Uh… you’re welcome?” Sam laughed, smiling down at the strange little man. Then he realised quite how close they were standing, and backed off. “So, uh… which club are you using on this one?”
“Oh…” If Gabriel had spotted Sam’s awkwardness, he certainly didn’t seem perturbed by it. He glanced out over the course. “How about the one that looks like a mini-golf stick?”
“This one?”
“Yeah, why not?”
Sam had never met a man like Gabriel before, and he’d certainly never seen one dressed like Gabriel jump up and down and swear as his golf ball sailed through the air and straight into a small thicket of trees, but as they fumbled through the branches, still exchanging stories and joking, he was glad he had. By the time they got all the way through to the eighteenth hole, Sam had walked more than he had in a long time, and he found himself almost sad that he had to traipse back to the lodge and wait for some other, entirely more boring person to show up.
“So…” Gabriel leaned over his club, Bob Hope style. “Would you care to join me at the nineteenth for a drink or two? I’d say we deserve it.”
“Can’t.” Sam sighed, hefting the club bag onto his shoulder. “Club rules.”
“Ah.” Gabriel nodded, looking down at his golf ball and lining himself up to swing. “And we wouldn’t want you getting in more trouble than you already are.”
“Yeah… Maybe some other time though?” Sam flushed a little, as Gabriel sliced another shot a good twelve yards away from where it was supposed to go, and Sam couldn’t tell whether it was Gabriel’s poor golfing skills or if he’d been shocked at Sam’s words. Gabriel just smiled up at him and started down the hill.
“Maybe.”
Unsurprisingly, Gabriel was the only interesting person Sam got to deal with throughout his week of caddy punishment. From pompous know-it-alls to snobby good-for-nothings, he got all the worst people that the other caddies knew to avoid. Sam was almost glad to crawl back into the mechanic’s garage and spend the day covered in oil and up to his elbows in a faulty motor.
He hadn’t been expecting a visitor. Especially not while he was dealing with a burst gauge which meant he got a face full of motor oil.
“Hey, sasquatch, you’ve got a little something…” the figure motioned in the general area of his face. “Well… everywhere.”
Sam almost didn’t recognise him, what with his being dressed not just like a normal human being, but a fairly classy one at that.
“Gabriel… hey. You look… I’m glad you finally got someone else to dress you.”
“Ha.” Gabriel smirked, wandering further into the garage, observing his surroundings. “Nah, I’m not here golfing today, it’s… more of a business call.”
“So you can dress normally… good to know.”
“Yeah, that outfit’s reserved specially to cause shock and outrage in the people who take golf seriously. Like my brother. Speaking of which, am I right in thinking you’ve had to work every day this week?”
“Yeah, part of the punishment; I’m pulling double shifts.”
“Ooh…” Gabriel smirked. “Well, call me your own personal genie, because shazam! Now you have the evening off. You also get the next two days free.”
Sam blinked at him for a moment.
“What?”
Gabriel smiled, looking slightly sheepish.
“I may have obscured certain details concerning my connection to the management… and I may have slightly more pull with the boss than his bitch of a daughter because… well, let’s just say he owes me.”
“Huh.” Sam grinned, grabbing one of the rags nearby to wipe the oil off his face. “So… thanks, I guess.”
“Eh.” Gabriel shrugged. “It wasn’t purely out of charity. I was hoping to chase you up on that offer of a drink.”
Sam smiled, and nodded.
“Sure. Just let me get changed and we can go.”
Sam had never met a man like Gabriel before. But he was glad he had, so much that almost wanted to kiss Meg the next time he saw her.