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It looks the same. He’s not quite sure if he expected it to or not. Perhaps somehow he was expecting some childish reconstruction or some matured adjustment - “I remember is seeming so much larger” or “has it always been so tall?”. One or the other at least. But no. Just the same. The same height stretching just above the surrounding buildings, the same windows shining against the early light of the day with all the presumption of some pillar of righteousness.
He should be inside already, strolling upstairs to relish the terrified looks he knows he’s due. It’s been perhaps what he’s looked forward to the most all considered. Well, that and seeing them at all. He’s not actually sure which particular item holds more anticipation, seeing his family again or watching their horrified confusion come to life. His therapist would probably have something to say about that comparison…
But, that doesn’t change the fact that he should have walked through those swinging glass doors half an hour ago and for some reason he’s still leaning against a railing by the outside steps watching the building as if it’s going to change into something else.
He’s not nervous. That would be absurd. Pointless. It’s just been a while, that’s all. And to prove just that he lifts himself off the railing. He’s about to step towards the doors when something stops him. Someone’s there already.
There’s more than one door of course, but the rest are a little hard to notice when one of the taller people Nick’s seen off of NBA courts or History Channel documentaries is trying to fit both his enormous body and equally enormous bike through one of them.
He finds himself slowing his pace to watch. This is certainly more early amusement than he’d expected out of the day.
The bedraggled cyclist is wearing a suit, which is interesting. Nick can’t remember the last time he saw a new associate bike to work. Most new associates at Pater, Fillius, and Umbra are so high on their own sense of arrogant achievement and new shiny salaries that they go for the best car they can afford and park it as close as they can. It’s a status symbol, an achievement, a nice button on the end of their long and tiring journey through the legal education system that landed them such an envied position at such a reputable firm.
The giant finally manages to fit the bike through the door, tossing his long hair out of his eyes. Nick’s a few meters too far away to see his face but suddenly he realizes he wants to and without even thinking he’s walking through the doors to follow him.
He’s leaning over the counter as Nick enters behind him and he wonders suddenly if he even is one of their’s at all. It’s not like there aren’t other companies in the building, and the bike, well, the pieces aren’t exactly fitting together neatly.
He sees the man- boy, gladiatorial competitor, whatever - leaning over by the receptionist’s desk. Nick gets closer. Already a few people are noticing him, but strangely he doesn’t quite feel the need to take in their expressions of delicious shock and horror. He’s a little too interested in what’s in from of him for that.
The biker is talking to the firm’s receptionist. So, one of their’s after all. He’s actually carrying the bike on his shoulder. Carrying it. Like it doesn’t trouble him one bit.
Interesting… surprisingly interesting.
It seems the receptionist is upset about something.
“The partners and associates usually drive, there's the lot in the basement levels—“ She’s insisting.
"Yeah, but really?" His voice is interesting as well. Genuine. Intelligent. Strangely engaged for a young associate, not of that superior tone that seemed to suggest a mere tolerance for the rest of the world. "I mean it's a city, I can't be the only one who doesn't drive."
The girls opens her mouth to protest again but Nick isn’t really listening to her any more. He’s too busy tilting his head a little to one side to see how the muscles on this stranger’s shoulder adjust against the weight of the bike.
He has too see his face, the curiosity is simply too strong to resist any longer.
“Nice bike,” He says smoothly.
“Thanks—“ The back doesn’t turn. Disappointing. “But look—“
He’ll just have to try again. “Three speed?”
“Yeah,” Still. Nothing. “See, I’m just—“
Ah, well, at least one of them has noticed him. The receptionist is staring at Nick like he’s crawled out of his own grave and, ahhh yes, there’s the expression he’s been waiting months for. The looming bike toter seems to notice that at least, and finally he’s turning, annnd...
It’s better than he expected. Beyond better. Unfathomably better.
Some part of Nick’s mind suddenly insists that he’s been looking for a face exactly like that all his life and not even realized it, but he silences that thought right away. After all, there’s too many other things to focus on.
His hair’s long, almost absurdly so, but Nick feels with sudden violence that he’d have something quite serious to say to anyone trying to shorten it and all he can think about is sliding his hands up through it’s length, tightening just enough to arch that long neck back and make him hiss through his teeth at the sensation.
The brown eyes are bright and concerned under a heavy brow, giving him the distinct impression of someone who actually possess that mythical concept of caring. And while there’s something soft to his look, there’s a sharpness to his face that’s unavoidable, something about those cheekbones and the edge to his jaw that almost feels dangerous, as if he’ll avoid a fight at all costs but when one crashes into him it’s going to seriously regret it, and the images that are flooding Nick’s mind are so shocking and pleasant that he can’t help indulging them for a moment.
And then there’s the tall. Lots of tall.
“Hi.” Nick says.
“Yeah, hey.” There’s something confused in his look but that does nothing but enhance all his features. He’s lovely confused. Beautiful even. No. Beautiful especially.
Nick would like to see more of that. Lots more. He’s suddenly wondering how every individual emotion would shift that face. He thinks he might want to play with all of them…
But there’s still the issue of this bike. “Problem?” He asks the girl. He can’t seem to stop looking at the gorgeous eyes looming above him.
“I was just looking for a place to keep my bike, she was telling me people don’t bike here...” He says.
“It’s fine.” Nick says without hesitating. It is. Anything he wants is fine.
“But she said—“ More confusion fills the pretty face and Nick soaks it up.
“It’s fine.” But the face is still upset, concerned. How utterly precious. “Isn’t it Julia?” Nick asks the receptionist.
“I— I didn’t know, I—“ She stammers out.
“Apparently not,” Nick savors her utter terror for half a second before moving on to better things. He smiles at her and lets his hand drift out to land on the shoulder beside him. It’s solid and warm under his touch and tensing against the vagrant social disregard of the act but Nick couldn’t care less. “Come on, you can keep it with the messengers'.”
They always had some bikes down there didn’t they? If nothing’s changed, that is. Anyways the idea of getting this body and that face and especially that hair into a more secluded space is just too delicious an idea to pass up.
“Oh— alright, if you’re sure that’s okay with everyone,” His new companion says. Still so concerned. This day is turning out even better than he expected.
There was no denying anymore that he’s drawing attention. Nearly every single person in the lobby is watching them with dumb shock written on their faces but Nick merely let’s himself bask in it.
“Don’t mind them.” He says, letting his hand drop back to his side not without a small amount of regret, “They just aren’t use to progressive thinking.” Which is really beyond true. He can’t remember the last time he heard an original thought out of this place, well beside’s Castiel and his coffee cart, but Castiel had always had a quiet naive sort of genius.
“Do you work here?” His companion asks.
Ah, curiosity too. Even more promising. Infinitely superior to a mere silent acceptance of authority. Best to push it.
“Do I look like I work here?” Nick asks him as they approach the door to the bike closet.
“Well, no.” He gets back. “But, you apparently know where the messengers keep their bikes so...”
Nick grins, “Can see why they snatched you up. Here we go.”
The scanner’s where they left it. At least there’s that. He wonders for a moment if Michael would have been just that paranoid…
He presses his finger against the scanner. It lights up in the familiar old way, approving the entry and letting the door swing open as he pushes it, “Hm.” He heads inside.
“Um--”
The sound has him turning. The lovely tall thing is still standing in the doorway, bike still secured to shoulder.
“Are you sure this alright? I mean I can figure something out, it’s my first day and I don’t want to--”
“It’s fine.” Nick says. And that seems to work, because the tall moves inside easing the bike off his shoulder.
Nick leans back a little to take the sight in properly. His new discovery’s chest eases under the thinner layer of his dress shirt, edges pulling against his belt.
“Tired?” Nick asks.
“No,”
“Mmm.” Nick murmurs. The lovely face blushes up suddenly and that goes pretty much directly to Nick’s groin. He’s far more tempted than he should be to suddenly inch closer to him, close to door easily behind them and back him up against it. He’s fairly sure he could get there.
But he doesn’t, and he’s not exactly sure why.
The tall figure bends over to fix the bike up to racks and Nick slips behind him to hold the door open towards the elevators.
He follows him across the floor towards them as they leave the room, watching with acute interest as the muscles of his back play with his pace under the blazer. It’s almost shocking how amused he is with this entire situation. He’s starting to come to the realization that he could watch him all day and possible never find a dull moment. There was just so much to explore, so many causes and effects to enjoy.
“Oh,” His companion says stopping short suddenly. Nick’s tempted to pretend he’s walked into his back by accident but resists, “I didn’t ask her... I don’t know where I’m supposed to go.”
“Twenty-third floor.” Nick says, hitting the elevator button as soon as they get there.
“How do you--?”
“You said you were new. You’ve got a tie, and a brief case- not nervous enough for a paralegal. Certainly not a partner- not with that eager, hopeful look. Associate. New. Twenty-third.”
The elevator dings and the doors open. They file inside as his companion attempts to soak up the information. Nick leans back against the wall where he can properly observe every reaction.
Long strong fingers hesitate over the buttons. “Are you--?”
“Oh, that will do.” It’s exactly where he needs to go. Back to the good old twenty-third floor, but there’s no need for him to know exactly why. At least not yet.
The elevator starts moving and Nick takes a moment to full absorb the situation. He’s trying to remember the last time he had so many fantasies bombarding his brain in such a short amount of time and can’t. There’s just too much, the height, the vague blush still stuck around his neck, the awkward way he’s handling his briefcase, the soft innocent look to his eyes, that sharp edge hiding behind them that’s nowhere near as sweet as it likes to pretend it is...
“I’m Sam.” He says suddenly.
Nick shakes himself out of the moment, glancing down to see his hand offered out into the thick space between them.
Sam. He rolls it around his mind for a moment. It’s perfect.
He wraps his fingers around Sam’s carefully, memorizing as much as he can.
“I’m Lucifer.”
He’s almost surprised at himself. He hasn’t introduced himself like that since he was sixteen and going through that phase, a year before he changed it. Well… apparently this day doesn’t want to stop being interesting.
Sam’s laughing at him. “That’s good,”
“Is it?” Nick smiles back, tightening his fingers on his hand a little, musing over the idea of what he would do if he gave him a good hard tug.
“That’s your name?” Sam’s staring now in shock. That’s a nice look as well…
“I believe I said it was.”
“But... Lucifer?”
“It’s Italian.” Nick says. That’s the excuse he gave before he changed it anyways, the excuse that lasted two days through elementary school before he gave in and just started kicking the snickering students in the shins.
“Oh.”
Ah. He’s noticed he’s still holding his hand. Nick watches him carefully, that pink tint to his cheeks deepening as his eyes struggle with something half concerned and half scandalized.
“Um--”
Nick let’s the hand go, but instantly regrets it and finds himself stepping closer. And Sam doesn’t move. He doesn’t step back. He just watches him with that wide panicky expression dancing around his eyes.
Nick’s closer now, close enough to feel the easy heat slipping off his body, close enough to do what ever he wanted, and oh, the things he could do.
It would be easy, easier than Sam could possibly know. He could step even closer, back him against the wall, slip two hands along his hips and lightly press a leg between his. He could simply tilt his head just a tad, let a breath catch on his neck and murmur a suggestion. Or he could just kiss him. Straighten his neck the few inches up between them, holding just there, hardly and inch apart, and finally press tight and hot and close and see just how quickly he’d crumble to pieces under his tongue.
But he doesn’t.
There’s something about this Sam that stops him, something about the figure in front of him that Nick wants to savor, and suddenly he realizes he doesn’t want to be the one to push. He wants to feel what it’s like for that height, all the well strung contained edge to ease him back against a wall, shutting out the rest of the world.
He doesn’t want to push. He wants to be shoved. And he can’t exactly remember the last time he felt like that.
But wants that, all that, and more. He wants that quite a bit indeed.
He wonders how long it will take. A day? A week? Even a month?
He lets himself smile.
“Mmm.”
It’s going to be delightful to find out.
“Lilac?” He asks, already loving the taste of this game on his tongue.
“Urmh--” Sam’s entire face has gone so red now he can almost feel the heat. But he still hasn’t moved.
“Your conditioner.” Nick breathes, “Lilac?”
Maybe if he leans in just a bit closer...
The door opens and Sam tumbles out with such haste that he’s struggling to keep himself standing. Nick slips away while his new project tries to gain some common ground with gravity. He’s feels himself smiling. He’d known he’d be smiling when he came back here, but he’s expected it to feel shaper on the edges, plastic and hard, not so easy he finds himself actually having to try to shake it.
Well, maybe this day wasn’t going to be quite what he expected after all.