Love Sick

Gabriel discovered something he really, really, really shouldn't have.

Literally, this could be simultaneously the best and worst thing to happen to him.

This will sound really shitty, like, all kinds of shit everywhere – and Gabriel knows he's done some extremely shitty things, especially as a trickster, but this might take the cake.

Here goes.

Gabriel loves it – craves it, enjoys it – when Sam is sick.

Shitty, right?

Not, he's-about-to-die-if-we-don't-get-medicine-in-him-now-sick. But just, he's-got-a-bad-cold-and-doesn't-know-what-he's-saying-sick. Because when he's that kind of sick, Gabe discovered, he's like a complement-giving machine. It's amazing.

They were in between cases when Sam caught a pretty bad cold. Dean demanded he be on bed rest until he gets better. Then a friend, well, okay, a hunter called up and said she needed help immediately. Something about a pack of wendigos.

"I've never seen them travel together before, Winchester. I don't know what to do!" She was shouting, so Gabe could hear clearly from across the room.

Dean told her to get somewhere safe, that he and Cas would be there as soon as possible.

"I'll go too!" Gabe said, ready to see some action.

"No." Dean replied immediately as he followed Cas up the stairs to the front door of the bunker, "You watch Sam."

"He's not a child." Gabe said, annoyed. As he appeared in front of Dean at the top of the stairs, he added, "And he's not dying."

"Watch him." Is all Dean replied.

The door slammed shut, apparently ending the conversation. Gabe glared at the door to the bunker; he said loud enough to be heard through the door, "I'm an angel, you shit!"

And just like that, the bunker was silent.

Gabe wandered around for a while until it was time for Sam to take more medicine. He got a bottle of water, the pills, and hot soup (with crackers) because the medicine couldn't be taken on an empty stomach.

When he silently walked into Sam's room, the sick figure in bed was asleep, dead to the world. A lamp in the corner of the room was on and giving just enough light to see by, but not so much that you couldn't sleep. Gabe carefully set everything in his hands down on the nightstand and slowly crawled onto the bed to wake up Sam.

He shook the other's shoulder carefully until the other awoke with a start.

Sam gasps for breath, hand sliding under his pillow for a gun that wasn't there.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down, Sleeping Beauty." Gabe said, reaching out to try to calm the other. "You're fine. You just need more medicine. Then you can go back to sleep."

Sam instantly relaxed, turning to his back. "Hey, Gabe. Where's Dean?"

"On a hunt." Gabe said, leaning back to get the crackers and soup.

"Without me?"

"You're sick."
"Oh, yeah."

"I could just heal you. With the snap of my fingers." Gabe said, again, for the zillionth time.

Sam smiled weakly up at him, "Thanks Gabe, you're the best." Gabe froze at that. Yesterday Sam was just telling him how much he hated him and how he should get lost already. Now, he's the best? "But, no. I'm okay."

"Oh…" Gabe said, handing Sam the crackers, "Kay."

When Sam sat up in the bed, Gabe handed him the bowl of soup. "It's just chicken noodle. I guess its normal for humans to-"

"God, did you make this?" Sam interrupted after taking a first spoonful.

Gabe blinked a few times, unsure if Sam's expression was a good or bad one. "Uh, yeah. I didn't want to waist Grace to just mojo you some soup, so I… made it… with my hands." He finished awkwardly. After a beat, he said, "Why?"

"It's Heaven." Sam moaned as he took another big spoonful.

"I…" Gabe said, confused, "It's soup?"

"It's so good." And wow, okay, that moan was borderline pornographic. Gabe watched as Sam licked his lips between spoonfuls. "Love your cooking. Thank you, Gabe."

That's another thing. It's Gabe now. Sam always called him Gabriel. But now it's Gabe. And Gabe doesn't know how to feel about that.

"You're welcome." He said numbly, still watching Sam devour the soup and crackers. He thought he'll have to make food – with his hands – for Sam more often if this is the reaction he'll get. Once Sam finished, Gabe grabbed the bottle of water and the pills from the table.

Even with Sam's half-asleep, fever-induced mind, he knew what the pills meant. They meant his headache will go away. And he'll feel better. As he took the medicine from Gabe's hands he mumbled, "Perfect, you're amazing, Gabe."

The archangels' hand jerked as he handed Sam the open water bottle. Some of the water spilled on his hand. "What- what did you say?"

"You're amazing and perfect." Sam said again, throwing the pills into his mouth and drinking some water. Gabe stared, unbelieving, as Sam yawned and laid back down to bed. "And cool." He mumbled.

Gabe slid off the bed, his mind racing. He didn't know what to say to that. Hell, he didn't even know what to think. Was Sam joking? Was he serious? Was in insane? Was it the cold? Was it him? Was Gabe imagining this? What?

"Okay." Gabe said, not knowing what to do or say or think. He picked up the empty soup bowl and spoon. He left the water and crackers on the nightstand, in case Sam wakes up and wants them. He hovered by the door for a second. Should he say something? After a long moment, he finally settled on, "Good night.", even though it was sometime in the afternoon.

"G'night." Sam mumbled, already drifting off, "Love you."

Gabe dropped the bowl.

He did not just hear that correctly.

No. He's insane. He imagined it.

His heart was pounding madly inside his chest. What the fuck. No, no. That didn't just happen. Okay. No. Okay. He'll just have to see what Sam says tomorrow. Maybe he'll confess it was all a joke.

Gabe quickly picked up the bowl and left, remembering to shut the door quietly.

It's just a joke. That's all.

Sam slept the rest of the day and through the night. He was awake at five the next morning, to find Gabe cooking breakfast. Eggs and bacon. In a pan, on the oven.

"Why didn't you just mojo breakfast into existence?" Sam asked as a greeting while he poured himself some orange juice.

Gabe jumped, turning quickly to see the Sasquatch, healthy and strong. "I- uh, do you feel better?"

Sam gave him an odd look as he started piling fruit onto his plate. "Yeah. I'm fine now. It was just a 24-hour cold, I guess." He nodded towards Gabe and said, "Hand me some toast."

Gabe was jumpy as their fingers brushed during the Great Toast Passage. Sam sat down at the kitchen table and glanced around the silent room. "Is Dean up yet?"

Gabriel just stared at him.

"Still asleep then?" Sam asked after a moment. He shrugged, "It is pretty early."

"So, you remember much from yesterday?" Gabe stared at him, bewildered. He wasn't expecting Sam to be so nonchalant. Maybe it was a joke. He's waiting for the punch line.

Sam thought for a moment, and then he shook his head. "Nah. I never remember anything after I'm sick. Dean used to tease me about it."

"Oh." Gabe said. The room was silent again. Gabe had no idea what to do now. Sam didn't even remember telling him…that? Is that good? Then he can't roll his eyes and tell Gabe it was a cruel joke. Is that bad? Now Gabe will never know if maybe, possibly, hopefully, it was true. He cleared his throat, "Uh, Dean's on a hunt."

"Without me?" Sam said, clearly annoyed.

"He took Cas."

Sam shook his head. Gabe decided not to tell Sam about how dangerous the hunt Dean went on is. The boy needs his rest. Besides, the bunker wouldn't be able to deal with two people freaking out internally.

Gabe watched Sam eat his fruit, wondering how sick Sam and healthy Sam could be so different.

Sam gestured to him with his fork, "Your eggs are burning."

Gabe smelt the rotting stench of burning chicken period and turned aroud, cussing loudly. He took the pan off the oven and ran to the trash. As he poured the eggs into the garbage can, Sam snickered.

Gabe turned to him, "What?"

Sam shook his head again, trying to hold back more giggles, "Nothing, nothing. It's just…" He trailed off, grinning.

"What?" Gabe said again.

"Millennia of existence and you still don't know how to cook." Sam laughed.

Gabe tried not to take offense. He really did. But as Sam laughed at his pout, Gabe couldn't help but think, 'I miss sick Sam.'

And he felt like shit for it.

So you see his problem?

Okay, it wasn't actually a problem until Gabe made it a problem. See, it was a few weeks after that first time with sick Sam. Gabe was just being his usual obnoxious self, fallowing Sam around like a puppy, sometimes helping, usually not, when something happened that made Gabe decide to make a problem.

Sam had been agitated lately. They all have been. It was this whole Mark of Cain business. With Cas gone and Dean constantly being a pain in the ass, Sam was always tense and frustrated. He tended to take his anger out on Gabe.

"I'm just saying," Gabe said, following Sam out of the bunker's library, "unicorns? My idea. And peacocks."

Sam was ignoring him. He knew, but maybe if he said something weird enough, Sam would laugh. Or just smile. Anything. This place was starting to feel like a major downer.

"I took one look at chickens and I thought, you know what would make that better? Huge. Ass. Feathers." Gabe said, waving his hands in emphasis.

"Oh my God, Gabriel." Sam said harshly, "I don't care. Would you please shut up for ten minutes?"

Gabe shut his mouth so quickly it made an audible clack.

It's okay. This was Gabe's fault. He was pestering Sam when he was busy and stressed. He should've known to leave him alone. Or better yet, figure out a way to help. He thought about telling Sam once or twice. He thought about telling him the truth.

You can't take the Mark off. The Darkness…

But he didn't. Because that's not what Sam wants to hear. He wants to hear a cure. Not another apocalypse.

Gabe stays quiet.

Sam sighs, turning to face Gabe. But the archangel really didn't want to see the cold stare Sam would give him. So, like one of his peacocks, he flew away at the first sight of danger.

By the time Sam finished blinking, he was gone, and the only remains of him was a whispered 'sorry' echoing off the walls.

After that, Gabe decided, wrongly, that he'd much rather have sick Sam – the Sam that complemented him and cooed over his soup and told him he fucking loved him – around much more than healthy Sam. And then he decided, wrongly again, that he was going to do something about it.

Sam had a cold the next day.

Gabe reappeared to help nurse him back to health.

Sam was leaning over his desk, papers upon papers upon papers of research over the Mark of Cain were scattered before him. It was late at night, Dean probably didn't know Sam was up.

"What are you doing up?" Gabe said, resting his hand on Sam's back. He'd never do this, touch him so gently, while Sam was in his right mind. But now, he felt confident in doing so. Especially when Sam leaned into his touch.

"The Mark." Sam said, gesturing to the papers, as if that explained it all.

"Shh." Gabe said softly, helping Sam stand up, "Don't you worry about that. I'll read all these for you. You go to sleep."

Sam nodded, crawling not bed while coughing. "Thank you," Sam mumbled as Gabe tucked him in, "You beautiful, wonderful human being."

Gabe didn't bother to correct him. He was too busy beaming at the complements. Gabe hesitantly ran his fingers through sam's hair. "Good night, Sammy."

"Night." Sam said, practically moaned.

Gabe hesitated, did he really want to take this risk? What if that one time was just a one time thing? Well, so far Sam has been consistent. "I… I love you." Gabe said quietly, fear obvious in his voice.

"Il'love you, too." Sam voice was quiet with sleep, his words slurred and unfocused. But Gabe could hear the phrase very clear. He grinned about that for the next twenty years.

He was ecstatic, this was what he wanted! He could tell Sam how much he loves him and Sam will actually say he loves him back!

The next time Gabe gave Sam a cold, and he was taking care of him, Sam was really affectionate.

"You are the best best to ever best." Sam said, wrapping Gabe in a hug. That was a beautifully intelligent sentence. Exactly what Gabe expected from the former college student.

Gabe returned the hug happily, curling himself into Sam's height. His arms held onto Sam like he would never let go. And his wings wrapped around the Sasquatch, engulfing him in feathers. Not that Sam would know, but Gabe did. And he loved every part of it.

The time after that, Gabe tucked Sam into bed, and as he was about to leave, Sam pulled him back down into bed with him. Gabe froze in Sam's arms as the other drifted to sleep, holding Gabriel, an Archangel, a Warrior of God, like he was a teddy bear. Gabe must've drifted off in the night, because when he woke up, it was morning. Sam was still wrapped around him, and Gabe had no idea what to do.

Healthy Sam didn't like Gabe. Healthy Sam would be disgusted when he woke up and found Gabe in his bed. Gabe watched Sam sleep for a while, but once the other started to stir into consciousness, Gabe flew away. He avoided Sam for a day or two after that, positive that Sam had heard him and would be angry with him.

Sam never mentioned it.

The next time was tamer. Sam just reached for Gabe's hand while Gabe was reading him a book. Gabe's speech stuttered to a halt, and Sam pulled his hand away, mumbling "Sorry, beautiful."

Gabe had no idea how to function after that. He tried to go back to the paragraph about Mirkwood, but it was extremely difficult with Sam staring at him like that.

God, Gabe just wanted to kiss him.

The next time, he did kiss him. On the forehead. While he was drifting to sleep. Gabe leaned down and pressed his lips to the other's forehead. He whispered, "Good night, my love." And left the room quietly.

Gabe would never do this kind of thing often. Always a week or two a part from each other. That was spaced out enough that Sam would be healthy and recover fine. And no one would suspect anything from Gabe.

He would always offer to heal Sam, but Sam always said no. Then Gabe would tend to him, hand and foot, and Sam would always wash his complements and 'I love you's all over Gabe.

It was perfect. Really, unbelievably, immoral. But perfect.

During one of the healthy weeks, Gabe walked into the middle of what seemed like an argument between the Winchester brothers.

"Seriously, Sam? You're an adult. You should know better." Dean yelled.

Sam sighed, "Relax. I'm fine."

"You haven't been fine."

"It's been a bad flu season."

"It's not flu season. You probably keep getting sick because you go outside with wet fucking hair." Dean said, furious at his little brother's complete lack of care for his health.

Gabe's eyes swept over Sam's form. His hair is dripping, and he's not wearing a shirt. He's shivering, goosebumps all over his skin. Gabe couldn't stop himself from nearly shouting, "Were you outside like that?"

Sam froze, eyes wide as they darted to Gabe.

It was spring, still not warm yet, especially in the early mornings and nights. Sam was outside like that, in the cold, and was that…? Yup. That was rain. The stupid human was outside in the cold in the rain with no shirt on.

"Are you trying to get sick?" Dean yelled.

Sam flinched and Gabe could tell that yeah, that's exactly what he was trying to do.

"Sorry, Dean." Sam said quietly.

"Go take a hot shower or some shit. I swear, if you get sick from this…" Dean said loudly as Sam walked off, head bowed, eyes not meeting Gabe's.

He was trying to get sick.

What? Why? What?

Gabe shakes his head, Sam Winchester is the most confusing human in existence and no one could tell Gabe otherwise.

He waited in Sam's room until he was finished with his shower. In a non-creepy way. He wasn't hoping to see Sam with just a towel wrapped around his waist, dripping wet, maybe breathing hard from the sudden temperature change. Nope. Nothing of the sort. He just wanted to talk.

When Sam came in, Gabe was rifling through his sock drawer – What? He got bored. Sam was, disappointingly, wearing all his clothes; a towel draped over his shoulders.

"Gabe?!" He said in surprise.

"Were you trying to get sick this morning?" Gabe asked with no pretense. Although with his long-ass socks in his hands, he didn't look all that threatening.

Sam sighed, "Dean already gave me the speech." He grabbed his socks from Gabriel, threw them in his dresser and closed the drawer with more force than necessary.

"Why?" Gabe asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Sam rolled his eyes, "Because he's a dick."

Gabe snorted, unable to keep back a laugh, "No, I mean, why did you do it?"

Sam stilled, his eyes looking anywhere but Gabe's. "I dunno."

"No one just wakes up at the ass crack of dawn and thinks, 'You know what? I'm gonna go out and get sick today!'" Gabe said, giving Sam a hard glare, "So you had to of had a reason. What is it?"

Sam shrugs, "I've gotten sick a lot recently, and when I do…" His eyes met Gabe's and he searched them for a moment. Looking for what, Gabe couldn't tell you. He must have found it, because he looked away and said, "Um, when I do… Dean seems better. I think… it helps him, seeing me vulnerable. I think it reminds him to be human."

Ah. The Mark. Sam thinks his illness activates some kind of Big Brother Protection Agency in Dean's brain that overpowers all the MurderMuderMuder.

"I see." Gabe said. "You're doing the Winchester Thing."

Sam frowns, "What thing?"

"Where you go through hell – literally – so the other will be okay." Gabe said, stating it like it's a fact.

Sam shook his head, "No, it's… it's not like that."

"That's exactly what you're doing." Gabe said. It made no sense. It was perfectly fine for Sam to be sick when Gabe was the one doing it, but once Sam was the one trying to get sick, it was unacceptable.

"Getting sick isn't hell." Sam said, trying to argue.

Gabe rolled his eyes, "It's not exactly a cake walk, either."

"How would you know? You've never been sick." Sam hissed.

"I've watched over you enough times to know it's not enjoyable."

"It is with you." Sam said, suddenly his voice quiet and sincere.

Gabe stared at him, once again speechless. Because how do you respond to that? He manages an intelligent, "What?"

Sam looked away, as he began to explain, "You treat me so kindly when I'm sick. You take really good care of me. And, I don't know, it's stupid, but I really like it."

Gabe had no thoughts. All he could do was repeat himself. "What?"

"I remember it. All of it." Sam said. "I know what happened every time I got sick."

He was horrified now, he could feel his face contort into an expression of fear, "Oh, Dad. No, you- no." All the things he'd said to Sam while he thought he was safe. Holy crap.

Sam placed a hand on Gabe's shoulder, and the archangel flinched. "Gabe, hold on, don't fly out on me here."

Gabe stood his ground, eyes darting around the room, unable to stay in one spot for too long; lest he remembers that Sam remembers. Clock. Door. Floor. Closet. TV. Bed. Desk. Floor. Door. Clock. Floor. Desk. Floor. Wall.

"I meant what I said," Sam said.

Floor.

"All those times when I was sick, and I told you…"

Desk.

"Things."

Floor.

"I meant them."

Sam.

When Gabe spoke again, his voice shook with an emotion unknown to angels, "What?"

Sam sighed, and said, slowly, like he was talking to a child, "Gabe, thank you for taking care of me all those times. I love you."

"Oh. Yeah. It was nothing." Gabe said, his voice high, "I love you, too."

Sam smiled down at him, affection spreading across his face, "I've been waiting a long time to do this." He said, and before Gabe could figure out what 'this' was, Sam was kissing him.

It was so much better than the forehead kiss Gabe gave Sam. It was everything he imagined and more. He never wanted this kiss to end.

But Sam quickly pulled away and turned his face away from Gabe. The archangel could already feel his heart sink. Oh, shit. This was all a mistake, Sam was pulling a cruel joke. Gabe will have to move to the Himilayas and chill with Yetis. This isn't okay.

Sam sneezed.

He turned back to Gabe and gave a sheepish smile, "I think I'm getting sick." He said, "I need my doctor to take care of me."

Gabe laughed, shaking his head. "What soup would you like today, my favorite patient?"

Sam flicked him, "I better be your only patient."

Gabe nodded as he lead him to the bed, "Yes, my one and only. Now, what soup."

"I really like your tomato soup." Sam said quietly, snuggling down into the sheets of his bed.

Gabe smiled, kissing his forehead, "I'll make a batch right up."

"Thanks, Gabe." Sam smiled, "You're the best best to ever best."

Gabe laughed, "And don't you forget it!"

Fluffy cheesy ending is cheesy fluff.

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