fic: Needs More Fedoras
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Lucifer
Rating: pg-13
Word Count: ~600
Disclaimer: Not mine, or there would be fedora's everywhere.
Notes: Butchering of the 1940s and how Mafias work. This was just an excuse to put them in fedoras. I blame princess_aleera and sgmajorshipper (also ty for the quick beta :D), as always.
+++It's a late night. Sam's finishing up some filing for Crowley, leisurely scanning the contents of each folder because he's got to have something to bring back to Dean at the end of the week. But everything he's looked at seems to be part of the Garrison's legitimate business side- Crowley wouldn't leave him alone with anything too confidential. Sam' still too much of an outsider, even after the first couple of months.
He's looking at an order for roses (the family runs a goddamn flower shop) when the door to the office opens and Sam quickly closes the file and slips it into the drawer.
"I'll just be a minute," he says, reaching for the next folder from the top of the file. The door closes with a soft click.
"It's fine," says a smooth voice from behind him. Right behind him, actually. Sam can feel the brim of the man's hat nudging against his own.
Lucifer Garrison. Head of the family and mafia boss. His own boss, technically- or, Sam Wesson's, at least. Garrison is, according to what he's read in the FBI files, and the little he's seen at work, extremely dangerous. He's also extremely attractive. Sam's not sure which is more of an issue.
He tries to ignore the presence at his back and stuffs the next folder into the drawer, but when he reaches for the next one, Lucifer grabs his hand, squeezes it.
"Take a seat," he says, walks away before Sam's blush can move past his cheeks. He closes the drawer and straightens the files, then slowly moves to the center of the room, sits himself on the long couch facing Lucifer's desk.
Sam's pretty sure he's about to get fired. Or killed, but that's very rarely done in house, or by Lucifer himself. He can't help but feel a little guilty that his ineptitude is going to cost Dean his case, but then Lucifer bends down to pick up a pen someone left on the floor, and he's a little distracted.
"Um," he says, and Lucifer straightens and nods his hat at Sam, and continues to wear it tilted to the side because of course that looks even better. He gives Sam a good once over, and Sam knows he couldn't hide his blush this time. The other man takes a seat next to him on the couch, cocks his head and puts a hand on Sam's shoulder.
"I like you, Sam," he says, "but you're not very good at your job," says Lucifer, his hand sliding from Sam's shoulder to the base of his neck, thumb brushing under his hair. Sam does his best not to shiver and keeps his eyes on the desk as the other man slides their thighs together on the couch.
"Yeah?" Sam croaks. Lucifer's fingers move across the pulse in his neck, tug lightly on his chin, and Sam lets himself relax into the hold as Lucifer turns his face.
"Yeah," he says, smirking. His breath is cool against Sam's mouth, and he licks his lips in return, keeps his eyes open as Lucifer grips his hair and pulls him in.
His last rational though its that Dean is going to kill him.
Pairing: Sam/Lucifer
Rating: pg-13
Word Count: ~600
Disclaimer: Not mine, or there would be fedora's everywhere.
Notes: Butchering of the 1940s and how Mafias work. This was just an excuse to put them in fedoras. I blame princess_aleera and sgmajorshipper (also ty for the quick beta :D), as always.
+++It's a late night. Sam's finishing up some filing for Crowley, leisurely scanning the contents of each folder because he's got to have something to bring back to Dean at the end of the week. But everything he's looked at seems to be part of the Garrison's legitimate business side- Crowley wouldn't leave him alone with anything too confidential. Sam' still too much of an outsider, even after the first couple of months.
He's looking at an order for roses (the family runs a goddamn flower shop) when the door to the office opens and Sam quickly closes the file and slips it into the drawer.
"I'll just be a minute," he says, reaching for the next folder from the top of the file. The door closes with a soft click.
"It's fine," says a smooth voice from behind him. Right behind him, actually. Sam can feel the brim of the man's hat nudging against his own.
Lucifer Garrison. Head of the family and mafia boss. His own boss, technically- or, Sam Wesson's, at least. Garrison is, according to what he's read in the FBI files, and the little he's seen at work, extremely dangerous. He's also extremely attractive. Sam's not sure which is more of an issue.
He tries to ignore the presence at his back and stuffs the next folder into the drawer, but when he reaches for the next one, Lucifer grabs his hand, squeezes it.
"Take a seat," he says, walks away before Sam's blush can move past his cheeks. He closes the drawer and straightens the files, then slowly moves to the center of the room, sits himself on the long couch facing Lucifer's desk.
Sam's pretty sure he's about to get fired. Or killed, but that's very rarely done in house, or by Lucifer himself. He can't help but feel a little guilty that his ineptitude is going to cost Dean his case, but then Lucifer bends down to pick up a pen someone left on the floor, and he's a little distracted.
"Um," he says, and Lucifer straightens and nods his hat at Sam, and continues to wear it tilted to the side because of course that looks even better. He gives Sam a good once over, and Sam knows he couldn't hide his blush this time. The other man takes a seat next to him on the couch, cocks his head and puts a hand on Sam's shoulder.
"I like you, Sam," he says, "but you're not very good at your job," says Lucifer, his hand sliding from Sam's shoulder to the base of his neck, thumb brushing under his hair. Sam does his best not to shiver and keeps his eyes on the desk as the other man slides their thighs together on the couch.
"Yeah?" Sam croaks. Lucifer's fingers move across the pulse in his neck, tug lightly on his chin, and Sam lets himself relax into the hold as Lucifer turns his face.
"Yeah," he says, smirking. His breath is cool against Sam's mouth, and he licks his lips in return, keeps his eyes open as Lucifer grips his hair and pulls him in.
His last rational though its that Dean is going to kill him.