Sam hasn't slept with anyone for a long time. He hasn't woken up with anyone for even longer. But his sleep-fogged brain registers the warmth of another body and the lazy curl and pull of his arm around...someone's waist. Also, there's something heavy draped over his thigh and half of his chest, a weight of skin and muscle. It's nice, it's really nice.
Until it occurs to him exactly why he doesn't wake up with people.
He's digging under the pillow for the knife before he even opens his eyes.
Only to stop when he registers exactly who's sprawled over his chest.
He's managing to take up a lot more space than he should, tangled up in Sam's limbs like he's been there all night. Which is a thought that rolls around and around in his brain without really making sense.
Gabriel is...he's Gabriel. He's on Team Free Will, reluctantly, between bouts of complaining about how everyone is doomed and trying to drive them all crazy with his endless and inappropriate abuse of powers. He's impossible and ridiculous and exhausting. But he's one of them. He belongs with them, and Sam's going to keep right on pretending that means exactly what it sounds like it means.
Still, waking up with him is pretty freakin' unexpected. Oh, sex with Gabriel isn't new, they've been doing that without caring much about the consequences for a while now. Since Gabriel nearly died. It's not - Sam doesn’t even know what it is, it's just something they do, in crappy motel rooms after hunts, or before them, or sometimes just when Dean isn't around.
But Gabriel doesn't stay.
It's not like that.
They're not like that.
Sam realises belatedly, that his arm has been slowly tightening round Gabriel's waist, fingers digging into the softness of it. He forces himself to stop.
He's fairly sure nothing weird happened yesterday. No curses, no spells, no falling into parallel universes, no bodyswaps, no ritualistic pagan sacrifices, no genies, no unexpected demonic interference at all.
Nothing to explain this.
There was the hunt, and a shower and - Gabriel's clever fingers digging into every stubborn ache in his back. Which had very quickly turned into Gabriel on his back and Sam dealing with an entirely different sort of ache. He's fairly sure he has finger bruises all over his back either way.
Sam had fallen asleep after that and Gabriel had...Gabriel had apparently stayed.
Though it very quickly occurs to him that angels don't sleep.
He peers accusingly at the long line of Gabriel's nose.
"Your body was warm and you weren't using it," Gabriel says. Like he's been listening to Sam's internal ramble. His voice curls across Sam's chest in one warm rush. Sam should have figured that a straight answer would be too easy.
"You never stay," Sam says quietly. He keeps his arm wrapped round him, just in case Gabriel takes offence at that in some way and disappears.
Gabriel snorts amusement into his skin instead.
"You never asked before."
Sam frowns. "Did I ask?"
"Uh huh." Gabriel drags his foot up Sam's leg in a way that's definitely no accident. But then he just relaxes again, like he has no current plans to do anything else.
Sam tries to remember saying anything last night and he can't. He remembers that messy rush of greedy bliss and then sprawling out in the pillows like he was never going to wake up again.
He doesn’t remember anything after that.
But he's never had Gabriel pressed in close and tight and warm when sex wasn't involved. It's weird and new and he thinks it's something he'd like to keep. He can feel Gabriel breathing, can feel the slow drift of his fingers and the dig of the angel's knee into the muscle of his thigh.
It's quiet and slow and everything Gabriel has always managed not to be. Sam feels like he's waiting for the punchline, for some hint of smug insult or trick - and it never comes. The minutes tick off, until he very slowly relaxes again.
Gabriel makes a satisfied noise and tangles their legs up in an entirely new, but oddly more comfortable, configuration.
Sam decides the apocalypse can wait five more minutes.