Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural nor am I making any money from this story. Likewise for anything else you recognise... all I own is my laptop... which my grandma brought me!

A/N: This is the first SPN fic I started to write and let me tell you, it has taken me a while to finish. As in the events of 5.19 happened half way through and I had writers block because of it. My first Sam/Gabriel and I can only hope that I got the characterization close to right.

'I can't leave you three chuckleheads alone for five seconds, without you stumbling your way into mortal peril, can I?'

Sam wonders whether it would be considered rude to punch an archangel in the face.

Even though, technically, he supposes it would be less than polite to punch anyone in the face. Well, anyone who didn't deserve it anyway.

And it was a perfectly fair assumption that Gabriel was a dick most of the time. And he had done more than enough, mostly to Sam, since he had first met the Winchesters that was thoroughly deserving of a fist to his head region.

But Gabriel had also been helping them for the past couple of months. Granted he did seem to think helping involved eating all their food, running up huge bills on their phones by prank calling the Jonas Brothers (and what that's all about Sam doesn't even know. Gabriel had muttered something about obnoxious fans and having SOS stuck in his head for a month), enthusiastic ridiculing of the "endless, epic and unresolved-sexual-tension filled love story of Dean and Cas" (and if it was Dean asking, Sam in no way found that even remotely funny, denies ever giggle-snorting at Gabriel's "eyesex" remarks and totally believes his brother's claims of platonic-ness) and generally just being obnoxious while relentlessly mocking their competence and intelligence.

Still, having an archangel on your side did have its perks. Chocolate appearing randomly, for example, could never be a bad thing. Neither could ice cream or, Sam's personal favorite, gummi-bears.

Castiel also seemed happier. At least Sam assumed the change in the angel's demeanor was that of the positive kind. The dude was kind of hard to read. His assumption was based entirely on the fact that, while Castiel was sitting across the room intently watching repeats of Gumby, like Pokey held the secrets of the universe or something, Dean had stared fondly at the angel and remarked that while Gabe might be a major asshat, he'd never seen Cas so happy. Sam had just thought he'd been looking less constipated.

As well as being pleased to have a brother on his side finally (although Sam was not giving up on the idea that he hadn't just decided to eat more fiber), Castiel also had a new fighting partner. Seeing those two kick the shit out of evil stuff could possibly be the most awesome thing Sam had ever witnessed. Given his life up until now, that was saying something.

The absolute best thing about Gabriel hanging around however, aside from something that Sam spent a lot of time pointedly not thinking about, was everyone's reactions. Apparently having an archangel backing you up makes people take you more seriously. Heh! Who'd have guessed?

Lucifer had decided to withdraw for the time being to assess this new development. So Sam was finally sleeping the normal sleep of someone who wasn't being dream stalked by the prince of darkness. But given Sam's new dream of choice it appeared that, just like everything else when it came to the Winchesters, normal was relative.

As for the angels, it would be suffice to say that they were not pleased. Zachariah had somehow gotten Sam, Dean and Castiel cornered in a motel room when Gabriel had decided to make his presence known. With an entrance only he could pull off the archangel had, in his own unmistakable way, told that pompous prick to get the fuck out before he smote his ugly ass. Gabriel then offered the indignant angel a bite of his chocolate bar for the road.

Sam wasn't exactly sure how closely angels' physiology was tied to their vessels but the vein bulging on Zachariah's forehead could have possibly precipitated an aneurysm. As it was, Sam almost wet himself he was laughing so hard. And as Zachariah left in a huff, even Dean had to admit that maybe Gabriel was just a little bit awesome.

'Your idiot brother is all "Go Gabriel", "Look for God", "This is just a routine hunt. Nothing we can't handle" and "Don't worry we have Cas if it gets too hairy". Those two morons were probably too busy making googly eyes at each other to notice shit. And Sam, despite what you may think, you can't actually puppy-eyes or bitchface anything to death. Really, must I do everything myself?'

That there was the problem though. Gabriel was awesome. He was funny, smart and interesting. Annoying, self-indulgent and completely unable to behave himself for more than twenty minutes at a time as well but everyone has their faults.

He was also so powerful that sometimes, when he was fighting or getting back in touch with his righteous side and let some of it bleed through, it made Sam forget to breathe.

There were times when it was hard to believe that the guy who was sharing his milk duds with Sam (after Dean had hogged all the popcorn, which it appeared was not sweet enough to warrant a "bottomless" box like the candies), the guy who helped that lost little kid at the mall, the one who's opinions and charisma made his smaller stature a moot point was really an archangel of the Lord.

Then there were times when the power Gabriel kept in check came to the surface and was so intense that it was as if electricity flowed across his skin. Times when Sam could swear the flickering lights, caused by Gabriel's anger, cast the shadows of imposing wings across the walls. And it was during those moments, when a glow, fluid, ancient and endless, shone bright behind Gabriel's usually laughing hazel eyes, that Sam found the idea that he was anything but impossible to comprehend.

When he had appeared at Sam's dream conference with Lucifer, all righteous anger and rolling energy barely concealed by a smirk, Sam had needed to take a few moments to remember who he was actually supposed to be afraid of. Hell, he'd almost stepped closer to Lucifer. Gabriel had exuded arrogance and a kind of possessive aura that had made Sam's stomach clench and his head spin. The confrontation between brothers was short but effective. The devil went bye-bye and, although he never made another "actual" appearance, a different archangel all together became the focus of Sam's subconscious.

'What do you think would have happened if I hadn't gotten there when I did? I mean look at you, so beaten to hell your face looks like a Picasso. You boys might be like cockroaches, I swear you'd be the only ones to survive a nuclear holocaust, but paralyzing spinal injuries and brain damage are not fanciful, magical afflictions that only happen to other people. All that touchy feely healing stuff is not my thing. Blowing apart; yes. Putting back together; not so much.'

Sam really wanted to hit him. Bad.

It wasn't that he wanted to hurt Gabriel. In fact he wasn't even sure he could. The most likely outcome of such an exchange would be a broken hand for him and bountiful mocking material for the former trickster.

It was meant to be a diversionary tactic. Something to distract him from his ranting, because anyone who knew Gabriel (as much as anyone could know Gabriel. Sam was sort of awed to realize that that was a very small, intimate and exclusive list that he just happened to be on), knew that, once started, his rants quickly grew to epic proportions.

All he wanted was for Gabriel to just shut up for three seconds, so he could hear himself think. Maybe then he could decide if the desire to kiss the irritating angel was one of those urges that were better left ignored. Because at the moment it seemed like the best idea Sam had ever had. And that… well, that just couldn't be right.

Because Sam wasn't into men. At all. Ever. At least he didn't think so.

Good grief, he didn't even know anymore. That 100% straight thing he'd had working for him for most of his life had gotten a little fuzzy about three years ago. Three years ago when a 5 foot something "I can see the back of his head while standing in front of him" janitor with mischievous eyes and an impish grin had wiggled his eyebrows at the younger Winchester.

'What exactly was your plan anyway? Lure them into a false sense of security by letting them slice you open and bleed you like a pig, before you jump up, yell "Surprise, I'm not dead" and then slaughter them all? Allow them to rip apart little bro or Deano then make the poor things sit through the other one doing the whole I-should-have-told-you-I-loved-you-while-I-had-the-chance-but-I-was-never-worthy-of-your-love thing until they are so depressed and nauseated they kill themselves? Because I'm really not sure I'm seeing the logic in anything you lunatics did today. It's as if you all found your "self-preservation off" buttons.'

Sam had never known why he'd reacted to the man like he had. Increased heart rate, sweaty palms and a fluttery stomach like a freaking 12 year old girl. He'd spent the whole of their first interaction smiling like an idiot, trying to act half as cool as he thought the dude was and being completely mortified at everything coming out of (or going into) Dean's mouth.

Looking back now, he'd like to think that such a visceral reaction was caused by a subliminal knowledge of what Gabriel was. That it had all just been a response to the hidden power that Gabriel was obviously emanating.

But if Sam was going to stop lying to Dean then he was damn well going to stop lying to himself too.

There was nothing supernatural about the janitor. They couldn't even link him to something they knew existed let alone an archangel. He was just a regular guy, not very special at all.

But there was something about him. At least as far as Sam was concerned. Whether it was the way he had seemed so at ease in his own skin or how comfortable he was with his lot in life (two things Sam had never been able to accomplish), Sam wasn't sure. Maybe it was the way his eyes had sparkled with joy when he laughed.

Whatever it was, it freaked Sam out.

He would never ever, even under extreme torture because he'd rather be dead that have to deal with the response, admit it to Gabriel (or Dean for that matter) but he had found the shorter man cute. Yes, cute. Not hot or sexy or handsome but cute. In his janitor outfit, Sam found Gabriel fucking adorable.

It had been a relief when Bobby had told them about tricksters. After Sam had pieced it all together. Because the janitor was a bad guy, simple as that (and no, Sam did not care that he was only taking out assholes who deserved it. He firmly told his brain to stop confusing him with valid points.). Also simple was the fact that bad guys, no matter how well they filled out their work pants, were not cute.

And Sam in no way felt remorse, regret or any other uncomfortable emotion type word as he watched Dean ram the stake into the trickster's heart.

'Why do I even bother helping you bozos out? I'm completely taken for granted. I mean Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dumber took off as soon as we got back here. Any "thank you Gabriel for yet again saving our pathetic and unworthy lives, we owe you a million"? No. It's all shifty looks at you and then Dean is dragging Cas' ass out the door, muttering something about needing to pick up some pie. And dear Daddy, I hope that's a euphemism because I'm not sure how many more longing looks they can endure before they spontaneously combust. Well, actually I'm not sure how many more I can take before I blow them up, but you know, same difference.'

The second time he saw the trickster, Sam almost wished he had been the one to do the ramming first time round. (And yet again Sam was going to ignore how his perverted subconscious made his every thought sound dirty.)

Standing there with a stake pressed firmly to the man's throat, Sam's only thoughts were that of pain and revenge. So, okay, maybe that had a little more to do with the frustration, exhaustion and "Oh my God, I just can't save him, hit by a remote control plane, I don't even" crazy that he was going through at the time rather than his true feelings but that's neither here nor there.

And after that well, he was too busy being desperate to get Dean back to think about anything else. Although he may or may not have noticed the softening of hazel eyes a few moments before they became hard and closed off again and fingers snapped.

All in all, the whole thing was terrible experience he'd rather not think about. But when he does think back, because he is only human and his mind seems to have a masochistic desire to know and understand as much as it can about everything, he sees things a bit differently than he did back then.

Knowing what he does now, knowing who the trickster really is, changes things. Small things like Sam thinking that maybe, despite his twisted, harsh and entirely untactful way of going about it, Gabriel had had a point. Like maybe he should have listened.

Even though he knows, given a do-over, he still totally wouldn't. Just because he gets the theory, it doesn't mean that's the way the practical is going down. Dean's his brother. He would and will do anything and everything in his power to save him.

But if only he had identified that it was the trickster, known that the trickster was Gabriel, had an understanding of Gabriel like he does now and also known that, when given the slightest hint that Gabriel was going to share his opinions at length, Dean would grab Castiel and bail, effectively leaving Sam to deal with the fallout. Because then, well, Sam defiantly would have appreciated the death that involved his brother being chased in and out through some trees by a shitload of squirrels in the spirit it which it was intended. The archangel was rather hilarious.

'Do you really think I enjoy getting up at the butt-crack of dawn just because you muttonheads can't even get through breakfast without a life threatening event? Just because angels don't need to sleep doesn't mean I don't like the indulgence. And the dreams, oh the dreams. There was this one with a waterbed and a huge pot of chocolate body paint which I… and that's a story for another time. The point Samuel is that I'm no longer getting my eight hours. That makes me cranky and when I get cranky I get smite-y. And I swear, if Dean doesn't bring back enough pie to share, the Dr. Sexy cast are the first to go.'

Sam went through several different reactions upon seeing the trickster for the third time. They varied from "I want to whack him in the head with the nearest chair for killing Dean all those times" to "Wow, TV land, really? Gosh, he'd be a powerful ally" and even "Why are those eyebrows so sexy? Do white coats make everyone more attractive? I think I want to touch his hair".

He's going to claim temporary insanity for that last one. (Well, he would if the hair issue didn't keep coming up… maybe permanent insanity?)

After the hair (and attached body) had vanished, Sam figured they were in trouble. Playing a game with this guy was not going to end well for the Winchesters. But he hadn't realized just how bad it was going to get. And he'd thought the surprise slapping had been unpleasant.

Operations, groin hits, STIs, canned laughter, sunglasses and the unexpected feel of the wind in his grill and his four tires on the blacktop.

If Sam hadn't known better he would have thought that the trickster liked Dean more. Because Sam really was getting the rough end of the stick. And he had no idea why images of playgrounds and pigtails kept popping into his head.

But despite the fact that they knew he was a dick, really powerful and a total bastard, which fit the pattern, finding out that the trickster was an angel threw Sam.

Finding out further, that he was Gabriel, as in the Gabriel, the archangel, had pretty much made Sam's insides turn to stone.

Why? When? How? Why? His thoughts and feelings were usually more articulate.

Sam had always believed in angels. Always believed in powerful beings that consisted of peace, understanding and, most of all, love. And the passages in the bible concerning Gabriel had always been among his favorites.

His beliefs had taken a hammering at the hands of Zachariah, Uriel and the other douche-y members of the host that he had had the misfortune of coming into contact with. (Castiel was carefully excluded from this group for obvious reasons) His faith in the virtues of angels was shattered.

But he had somehow, foolishly, hidden even from himself, held out hope for Gabriel. His favorite angel.

The others never mentioned him. It was all Michael this and Lucifer that. Maybe Gabriel was exactly what Sam thought angels were supposed to be, maybe he wasn't being informed of his brothers actions. Maybe he had been killed trying to stop the apocalypse. Maybe he was being held prisoner, would break free and help them stop it all.

Seeing him in a circle of holy fire, sneering with arrogance and anger had been a rude slap of reality. Sam was hit with the truth; a bus would have been nicer.

In was only thanks to the Winchesters inbuilt ability to go straight from "what the fuck" to total focus in 0.2 seconds that he was able to concentrate on Gabriel's tirade.

He'd disagreed of course. There had to be a way to stop it. He couldn't cope, breathe, exist if there wasn't some way. But as for the rest, he could almost see where Gabriel was coming from.

Hell, he'd tried to break away from his own family too, albeit not as successfully. And Sam was also well versed in the art of wishing for all the crap that was threatening him and those he loved to just be over. Didn't matter how it ended as long as it ended. He'd spent five years being tired.

So yeah, Sam could see the archangel's point.

As they drove away though, with Dean mumbling about damn, stupid, cowardly, short archangels, Sam kept his mouth shut. Because saying what he was thinking about Dean's ability to stand up to his family or to face off against his own brother would be rather counterproductive.

'And I just know they will come back all giggly and annoying, hopefully with pie, only to say we are heading to Bobby's again. Which is all well and good for you losers but getting shot every ten seconds is not my idea of a good time. At first it wasn't so bad, I mean what's a couple of shotgun cartridges between friends, but it's starting to get ridiculous. Yes, gaping holes in my stomach you can see through are amusing, but only once or twice. It's almost like he doesn't like me. And I like him. He's funny in that grumpy sarcastic way and was clearly, before I got here, the brains of this operation. You'd think, after all I've done, he would at least let me in the house without firing off a few rounds at me first. It's beginning to give me a complex.'

When Gabriel had shown up unexpectedly at Bobby's a few weeks after the warehouse incident, leaning against a doorway and munching on a chocolate bar, the archangel had barely gotten out a "what's up Docs" before the older hunter had lifted a shotgun and fired.

It was simply the surprise of the situation and the conditioned reaction to gunfire that had Sam flailing upwards from his chair with a yelp. A very masculine and dignified yelp that wasn't even close to a shriek, squeal or squeak despite anything Dean might say.

It had nothing to do with the fact that the shorter man with the incredibly touchable looking hair had a huge hole where, were he naked (not picturing it, not picturing it), his bellybutton would have been. Okay, well maybe a little. Fine, a lot. Happy now!

It didn't occur to Sam that, had he wanted to, Gabriel could have halted the shot with barely a thought or let it pass through him or even turned it into a shower of daisies. Or M&M's.

It also didn't register that, unless Bobby had learned some heavy-duty angel killing methods that he hadn't bothered to share with the class, any wounds received would be superficial at the most and very temporary.

But thinking through knee-jerk reactions had never really been Sam's forte.

All Sam knew was that he could see the pattern of the wallpaper in the hall behind Gabriel without looking over or around him and that there was blood everywhere and regardless of previous feelings he really didn't want the archangel dead. In fact he really wanted the opposite.

Before he knew what he was doing he was halfway across the room with every intention of vainly stemming the blood flow, of keeping Gabriel alive for even a few moments longer, even attempting CPR if the situation called for it. And some distant part of his brain was determined to blame his future actions on mouth-to-mouth resuscitation should Dean call him on it.

It was only when he was standing in front of Gabriel, his hands fluttering around the angel's shoulders like distressed birds, that he saw it. Pure mischief and a good dose of fond amusement dancing in golden eyes. That was all it took for his brain to catch up to his feet (and hands and eyes and heartbeat).

He pulled a face that he just knew would be one day catalogued by his brother in "The 101 most common Bitchfaces found on Samuel Winchester". If Dean ever got the chance to write it that is.

Sam was pretty sure this one was a mix of number 26, "I feel like a total idiot thanks to you. You will pay", the embarrassingly regular number 57 "Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal" and number 73 "I don't hate you as much as I should, so I will glare at you awkwardly instead of sucker-punching you like you deserve".

It wasn't possible to be accurate; He didn't have a mirror.

He decided to cut off the "Aww Sammy, I didn't know you cared" at the pass.

'What do you want Gabriel? We don't have time for your crap right now.'

Sam wasn't expecting the first thing close to an honest smile he had ever seen on Gabriel's face to fall so quickly. Or for the archangel's eyes to take on a deep overwhelming sadness before he caught himself and reigned in his emotions. Gabriel reacted like a normal human being for all of three seconds.

Typically (unfortunately?) he reverted to pure trickster, which was strangely close to pure Dean. Humor to cover pain.

'Well if it's okay with you I would like to sign up for Team Screw You Destiny or whatever other stupid name your brother has undoubtedly decided to christen this ragtag bunch of misfits with.'

Call him cynical but Sam wanted dental records from a qualified veterinarian.

'You expect us to just believe that you're now suddenly on our side?'

'No, I don't. And I can't tell you how glad I am that you're questioning me and Dean there is making his "I'd rather stab you in the eye than trust you" face because that means you two aren't as stupid as you look. Which means we might not be as royally fucked as it first appeared. Any little twig we can add to help us get down this metaphorical waterway is a good thing. So no, I don't expect you to trust me as far as you could throw me. I expect to have to produce a damn good reason and then work my ass off proving myself to you morons constantly. And I wouldn't have it any other way.'

And just how was he supposed to respond to that? Sam clamped down the urge to applaud.

Dean however had no problem finding his voice. And as usual was tactful and eloquent.

'Well then Chuckles, get to the explaining.'

"Sure thing Deano, but first..'

With a snap of his fingers the blood was gone, there was no more gaping wound, Gabriel was returned to being impeccably dressed and, judging from the cursing that would have made a sailor blush, Bobby's shotgun was a little less gun-like. It may have even started purring from its position curled up on his lap.

Acting as though he hadn't just turned a deadly weapon into a fluffy ginger housecat, Gabriel continued.

'So fun fact, I have my very own group of witches that draw their power from your's truly. Being a pagan god has its perks.

Yesterday one of my girls summoned me to her. Well, more accurately dragged me to her by my ear. Man, was she pissed.

You boys met her once. Red hair, young but motherly and sweet as a button. Unless you upset her and then she's a real spitfire. Don't tell the others but she's my favorite. Awesome sense of humor, full of attitude and she makes wicked cookies. Prophetic too, means I can't get away with shit.

Anyway, she seemed to be a little peeved that I'd left out the whole archangel thing on my resume. Plus she has a bit of a soft spot for you two and the whole Wellington thing did not go down well.

So I apologized… don't look at me like that. It's totally not my fault she has me wrapped around her little finger.

I was expecting her to continue with her stern but fondly indulgent lecture, she does enjoy laying on the "I'm not angry, I'm just disappointed", but then she's in my arms sobbing her eyes out. Took me ages to calm her down enough to get the full story out of her.

Turns out she had seen what happens if I take too long to join you yahoos. I won't go into details but there were a whole bunch of pagan gods, civilian casualties and a hostage situation. Plus good old Luci showed up and, even more disturbing, one of my ex-girlfriends. Everyone got a little stab happy with angelic blades and just when I decided on a side…

Well, the point is, after a nice cup of tea, she slapped me on the back of my head, told me to do the right thing or else and then sent me on my way.

So after some deep though, eating the cookies she'd packed me and setting a man-eating koala on a guy who thought it was funny to steal from animal cruelty charities, I came here. Where I was promptly shot by the way. Still I guess that's better than facing an ex without some proper eye-candy on your arm.'

Sam figured that the slack jawed stares all four of them were directing at Gabriel were perfectly justified, if not required.

Gabriel seemed to take the stunned silence as acceptance and began grinning widely as he rubbed his hands together.

'Okay then Singer. What's say you get your lazy butt up and show me how to work your stove? I feel like some home cooked waffles.'

As the smirking archangel made his way to the kitchen, Dean helped Bobby to stand confirming that yes, his legs did function and Castiel vainly tried to comfort the displaced cat. Beginning to follow Gabriel, Sam couldn't help the slight frown that formed on his face.

Not even Bobby's declaration of the fact that, working legs or not, he was still going to shoot the bastard if Gabriel kept popping in like that, could distract him.

Gabriel was good, but Sam had seen the flinch at the name and had noticed the trailing off of the sentence. Coupled with the sadness he'd seen earlier, he just knew. The archangel couldn't fool him.

Knowing that your brother could, would if given the opportunity, kill you, had to suck. Even for heavenly beings with phenomenal cosmic powers. And awesome waffle making skills.

'…a little clichéd but it's not that bad of an idea. What do you think Sammy?'

'I think you shouldn't call me Sammy, Gabe.'

He knew years of being conditioned by living with Dean into responding instantly to any perceived insult would come back to bite him in the ass. Sam just didn't realize it would result in death by archangel smiting.

Thankfully Gabriel just seemed indulgently amused as he rolled his eyes with a sigh. Unfortunately he then started starring at Sam expectantly. Apparently he required an answer.

Shit, what was the question?

Reminding himself that now was not the time to panic, Sam desperately scrambled though what he could remember Gabriel saying for some clue to where the rant had ended up. Surely something mentioned in the past half hour was relevant.

Half hour? That had to be a new record. For the shortest Gabriel diatribe ever.

It really wasn't fair for Sam to be expected to hang on every word. It wasn't his fault his mind began to wander once the tirades amped up to full speed. Okay, so maybe he could have spent a little more time paying attention and a little less traipsing down memory lane. But that wasn't a punishable offence, was it?

Gabriel's pursed lips, showing the beginnings of impatience, were an indication that yes, it probably was.

And that right there added to the problem. How was Sam supposed to concentrate anyway? Gabriel's lips were a huge distraction as were his eyes. Then there were Gabriel's hands, eyebrows and don't even get him started on the archangel's hair.

Honestly it took all of Sam's willpower to divert his attention away from staring obsessively at Gabriel and hence making his big, inappropriate, gay crush glaringly obvious. Like Dean's.

When had his life become a Queer as Folk spin off?

A snort of amusement shook Sam out of his inner ramblings.

'Well, I was asking if you thought locking those two idiots in a closet together would be a good move but whacking them in that kind of TV show is a much better idea.'

He lifted his eyes to meet Gabriel's and was immediately floored by what he saw there.

Oh no, for the love of all that is good in this world, please no.

Sneaky, bastardy, mind reading archangels with no patience to wait for an answer.

Sam wasn't stupid. He knew, from what Castiel had mentioned during a conversation between the four of them that Sam never ever wanted to have again, that the stance on homosexuality mentioned in the bible didn't exactly mesh with the Big Guys real feelings. But to hold out hope that there would ever be a happy ending for him and Gabriel was stupid.

What would an angel of the Lord ever want with him? He was tainted, dirty, wrong. Not that he held any illusions of Gabriel being completely pure but Sam would never compare the archangel to someone like himself.

And now everything was ruined. Gabriel was never meant to know about his reckless, dumb feelings. Never meant to realize Sam was more attracted to Gabriel physically than anyone he had met since that night in the professor's office. Never meant to walk towards him with soft eyes and a brilliant smile.

Wait, what?

Before Sam could comprehend what was happening, Gabriel was standing in front of him, fingers gently tracing the edge of Sam's hand.

'You should have just said something Kiddo. If I'd known you felt the same… even had an inkling… well, let's just say we've wasted a hell of a lot of time.'

Sam heart was beating so fast it was making him dizzy and his stomach had settled firmly enough in his throat that it was already sending out change of address cards.

Gabriel licked his lips and Sam, pointedly, did not almost faint because that would be girly.

"Guess we should make up for it as soon as possible'

Sam couldn't agree more and when Gabriel fisted his hands into Sam's shirt, bringing the hunter down to his level, Sam had to remind himself to breathe.

Tangling his fingers, finally, into Gabriel's hair, Sam pulled the archangel towards him. They were so close he could feel Gabriel's breath brush across his lips, sending shivers down his spine.

A mere inch stood between him and discovering if reality could possibly live up to his dreams.

So of course that was when they heard the unmistakable sound of a key turning in a lock. Fate did so enjoy kicking him in the balls.

Moments before Dean and Castiel entered, Sam watched as Gabriel smiled an honest smile and flattened his hand over Sam's heart.

'Later', he whispered.

Then the door was flung open and Sam heard his brother's sharp intake of breath as he took in the scene before him. He also saw Gabriel's wicked smirk.

'Next time we'll have to see if your bed's as comfy to have sex on as Dean's.'

And with a snap of his fingers the archangel was gone, leaving Sam grasping empty air. Fingers already missing the softness of the hair beneath them.

'What the fuck, Sammy!'

Distantly Sam could hear Dean having a major bitchfit and Castiel attempting to calm the older Winchester down but he couldn't really bring himself to care. Sure, he would have to deal with the fallout later but right now, well…

All he could do was stand there with a big, dopey, mile wide grin on his face.

Gabriel liked him back. Like liked him back. And there would be a later.

Awesome.