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Forgetting Last Night

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Gabriel is walking down the street in a small Minnesota town when he feels his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He fishes it out and looks down at it. He hasn’t had a use for the damn thing, but when you’re friends with humans, you’ve gotta keep up with their technology. He flips it open and is surprised to see Dean Winchester’s name on the caller ID. Must be pretty damn important then. He hits the green answer button and puts the receiver to his ear.

“I’ll be damned. I never thought I’d see the day when Dean Winchester would call me for a chat. I’m touched, really,” Gabe teases, surreptitiously ducking into an alleyway. If he’s gotta pull his disappearing act, he doesn’t want anyone to see.

“It’s Sammy…” Dean says a little breathlessly. He sounds like he’s been running a damn marathon. Gabe just sighs.

“What have you two muttonheads gotten yourself into this time? Look, Dean, just ‘cause I said you could call me anytime doesn’t mean you can just expect me to come clean up all you—” Gabe gets cut short by a growl from the other end.

“Gabriel. Shut the hell up and just let me finish, will you?” Dean rasps, and Gabe promptly shuts his mouth. “Now then. Sammy and I… we had a fight. He took off to some bar with the Impala and I was just wonderin’, if you’re not doing anything too important, if you’d go check up on him. He was pretty pissed when he left and he’s not gonna want to talk to me… and I know you guys have gotten pretty close lately… so yeah. Please?”

Gabe thinks about this for a minute. Must’ve been a pretty bad fight if Sam went out drinking. He really should go. “Yeah, alright, I’ll go.” He doesn’t wait for Dean to answer. He clicks the end call button and slides the phone into his pocket. He takes one quick look around, affirming the coast is clear, before snapping his fingers and disappearing.

***

Sam takes a long drink from his mug before slamming it down on the counter. The bartender jumps, but doesn’t say anything, instead moving to talk to some other patrons a few seats away.

There’s an awful lot of ruckus in this place but he expected that kind of behavior here. A group of middle-aged hillbillies loiter around the pool tables, talking about NASCAR and catcalling every girl who walks by. A few college age kids are sitting down at the end of the bar talking sports and Sam feels a pang of sadness. What he would give to just have a normal life, without hunting demons and monsters and dealing with angels…

The little bell on the door jingles as someone else enters, but Sam pays no mind. He’s too busy calling the bartender over and getting another beer. He’s not horribly drunk, not yet anyway, but he’s well on his way. He notices some raunchy Christina Aguilera song comes on, something about candy and popping cherries. Pleasant, reminds me of someone I know, he thinks to himself as he closes his eyes and takes another drink.

Mid-drink, he feels someone slide into the seat next to him and he opens his right eye just enough to make out the familiar face of the man next to him. Gabriel?

“Hey there, Sammy!” Gabe shouts as he claps Sam on the back a few times. Sam nearly spews beer everywhere, “How’s it hangin’?”

Sam wipes the little dribble of beer away from his mouth and stares at Gabe, wide-eyed. “Can you… try refraining from doing that while I’m drinking? I nearly choked.” Gabe just laughs and puts an arm around Sam’s shoulders. Sam just groans and rolls his eyes. Oh, here we go.

Gabe waves down the bartender and orders them both three shots each. Sam’s got a really bad feeling about this but he’s still so pissed off at Dean he doesn’t care. He’s thinking he wants to forget this night anyway when Gabe slides a shot of something his way and Sam catches it in his hand.

“You didn’t have to do that. I can pay for my own stuff,” Sam says with a little grunt, looking at the amber liquid in the glass. He brings it up to his nose and sniffs it. Whiskey, but not the cheap kind. Maybe even Jameson. Gabe’s got good taste in liquor.

“Nah, don’t worry about it, Sammy. Drinks are on me tonight,” Gabe says with a little chuckle, turning to look at the corner with the pool tables. Sam catches his glance and follows it. He doesn’t realize it, but Gabe is setting him up big time.

“You like pool, Gabriel?” Sam asks in a surprised tone. Gabe just nods and points to the tables. The group of men that were there before are now migrating towards the exit, leaving the pool tables wide open. Sam knows what’s coming next.

“Let’s play a round. Whaddya say?” Gabe throws back a shot, then the second, then the third. Sam’s a little impressed even though he shouldn’t be. He knows angels can drink copious amounts of alcohol without feeling anything. Sam takes his first shot, then the second. The alcohol immediately goes to his head and he has to close his eyes for a second to get rid of the dizziness. When he feels like it’s safe again, he takes the final shot and stands up a little unsteadily.

“Let’s go,” Sam mumbles as he wipes his mouth and staggers over to the pool tables. Gabe follows close behind, right on Sam’s heels. When they reach the pool tables, Sam braces himself against the end closest to the bar. He’s already drunk, Gabe knows that much, so he very courteously goes and retrieves the sticks. He walks by and pokes Sam right in his side with the stick, startling him so much that he nearly falls over.

“This is for you,” Gabe says in a serious tone and hands it to Sam. Sam takes it without argument but almost topples over. Gabe grabs hold of his wrist and keeps him upright, frowning slightly. “Didn’t realize you’re such a lightweight,” he jabs, a small smile on his lips.

Sam laughs humorlessly and shakes his head. “I had a few drinks before you got here. That with the shots has got me feeling pretty damn good.” Gabe doesn’t say anything, just nods and retreats to his side of the table. He sets everything else up and when they’re finally ready to play, he grins at Sam and points his stick at him. “Let’s play then, shall we?”

***

Three rounds of pool and two more shots later, Gabe decides it’s probably time to sit down. Sam’s barely holding himself up, cheeks bright red and flushed. His eyes are glassy and heavy-lidded and Gabe knows all too well that Sam is drunk, probably past the point of remembering this tomorrow morning.

Gabe wraps an arm around Sam’s waist and helps him back to his seat (with a bit of difficulty, thanks to their extreme height difference) where he immediately lays his head down and groans. Gabe just slips in next to him and pats his back awkwardly. He thinks Sam has passed out after a few minutes, but Sam eventually sits up and starts running his finger through a pool of condensation on the bartop.

“Y’know, Gabe, you’re a really good guy. At first I thought you were a pretty big asshole, but you really do care, don’t you?” Sam looks over at Gabe for the first time, really looks at him. He’s wearing his hair the same as he usually does, but there’s just… something different. He’s got on a white button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone, a black vest and dark jeans. Sam feels the temperature physically go up a few degrees and he fans himself with his hand.

Gabe looks up at him and smirks. “I am a dick, I won’t deny that. But yeah, I do care. I might not agree with what you guys do sometimes… but, well, you saved my ass a few times.” Gabe frowns and looks down into the drink he’s barely touched. “It’s also important to me that I have a better relationship with Castiel. He was always my favorite brother, you know. Level-headed, never causing problems. I liked that about him. He’s the only family I’ve got left that isn’t a douchebag. And if he’s got high opinions of someone, that usually means they’re decent people.”

Sam just hums and lays his head down on the bar again. The wood is cold and it feels good against his burning skin. “Dean and I got into a fight. Big one. ‘Bout Michael and Lucifer and all that…” Before he can go on, Gabe cuts him off, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him gently.

“I know. Dean told me,” Gabe says softly, rubbing his thumb against Sam’s neck. He feels Sam’s skin warm up just a little bit under his hand and he smiles to himself. “I know it’s total crap, Sam. The whole deal with Michael and Lucifer. But you guys… you’ve gotta stick together and you can’t let them win.” He pauses, rubbing his entire palm over the back of Sam’s neck. He shivers and Gabe actually feels something in his chest. “Anyway, now’s not the time to talk about serious stuff like that.”

Sam doesn’t respond for a few minutes and Gabe shakes him gently. “Sammy?” Nothing. He presses the palm of his hand to Sam’s back and he can feel his steady breathing. He’s asleep.

***

Sam doesn’t wake up until Gabe is dragging his sorry drunk ass out of the back of the Impala and into the hotel room. Dean and Cas aren’t there, most likely out drinking or doing something equally stupid. They manage to get inside and Gabe just lets Sam fall onto the bed.

“You’re not gonna be feelin’ pretty tomorrow, you moose. I can promise you that,” Gabe says, his lips twitching with a smile. Sam just groans and Gabe laughs.

“C’mere,” Sam mumbles into the pillow, toeing off his shoes and softly patting the space next to him. Gabe raises an eyebrow and Sam notices the concern in his face. “Just… rub my neck again… like earlier. Felt good.”

Gabe can’t argue with that. He slips off his shoes, shrugs out of his vest, and plops down on the bed next to Sam. Gabe’s hands immediately move to rub Sam’s shoulders and a moan of pleasure rumbles through him. It catches Gabe off guard and he stops for a second, but Sam just shakes his head.

“Don’t stop, idiot,” Sam pleads desperately and Gabe actually feels his own pulse pick up. He keeps trying to convince himself that it’s just the vessel reacting to the stimulus, but he knows it’s not true. Damnit, since when did I have a heart?

They spend a long time just like that before Sam turns to look up at Gabe and they lock eyes. Well, that’s it. Not more than three seconds later, Sam’s mouth is on Gabe’s mouth and they’re kissing. Wet and sloppy and wild. Gabe’s hand moves to grip Sam’s hair, pulling them closer together. But just as it’s getting good, Sam pulls away and wipes at his mouth, wide-eyed.

“I-I… damn, I’m sorry, Gabe,” Sam mumbles against his hand, “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.” Sam looks up at Gabe then and he’s surprised to see that he’s staring back, head cocked slightly to one side.

“You’re sorry?” Gabe asks, his voice almost accusing, and Sam feels like the biggest damn idiot in the whole world. He just kissed Gabriel, the damn archangel. He’s pretty surprised when Gabe grabs his face and crushes their lips together again, only to break away after a few seconds.

“You really are a moron, Sammy,” he whispers against Sam’s lips, then kisses him again.

***

“Rise and shine, sweetheart. We gotta get this show on the road!” Dean throws the curtains of the hotel room open, the afternoon light filtering in through the window. Sam groans and rolls over. His head is pounding and he’s sore all over. That’s… different.

“Dean, shut the fucking blinds before I come over there and skin you.”

“I’d like to see you try. Now come on, we’ve gotta get going.” Sam hears Dean shuffle around for a few minutes before he leaves the room to pack up the car. Sam sits up and has to practically fly to the bathroom. Worst hangover ever.

After dry heaving for five minutes, Sam finally manages to get to the sink. He looks at himself in the mirror for the first time and he is actually floored. His neck is covered with purple hickeys and his bottom lip is swollen on one side. Did he… sleep with someone last night?

When Dean comes back in, Sam is all packed, but he has a few questions for his brother. “So, who was it?”

“Who was who?”

“Who the hell did I sleep with last night?”

Dean looks at Sam, raising his eyebrows, and grins. “Oh, like you don’t remember.” When Sam looks at him expectantly, Dean’s face falls. “You really don’t remember?”

“Obviously not, Dean.”

Dean shifts awkwardly, scratches his temple then turns around and walks away. “I’m not telling you.”

“What!? Why the hell not? Dean, don’t do this!” Sam follows after Dean, throwing his bags into the back of the Impala and sliding in next to his brother. Cas is curled up in the backseat, not sleeping, just… watching them.

“Dean, tell me who it was!”

“It doesn’t matter, Sammy. Now let’s just go—”

“No, Dean, it does matter! I don’t remember a damn thing from last night except…” Sam pauses and looks at Dean in horror, “Gabriel. I was with Gabe last night. Oh god, it was a hooker, wasn’t it? I swear, if I have an STD because that bastard decided it’d be a good idea to go hang out with his… prostitute friends…”

“Sammy, calm down.” Dean’s words went through one ear and out the other.

“Oh my god, that prick. I’m going to strangle him…” Sam is clenching his fists so tightly his knuckles are white. It doesn’t help when Cas decides to chime in.

“What happened to your neck, Sam?” Cas asks, his innocent curiosity a bit endearing, but not enough to keep Sam from losing it.

“I can’t believe you two assholes let him near me! You know bad things always happen with him around… I just can’t believe it!”

His temper tantrum continues well into the car ride and no one says a damn word about it.

***

Gabe feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and he pulls it out. A text from Dean. He opens it and scrolls through the message before sitting down on a bench and replying.

He’ll remember eventually. When he does, make sure you take a picture of his face and send it to me.

He presses send and leans back against the cool brick. He shoves the phone back in his pocket, shakes his head, and stands up. After a minute, he grabs his phone again and decides to send another text.

Sammy, had a blast last night. Hope your hangover isn’t too bad. Text me later, ok?

He sends it and receives a reply almost instantly.

You are a douchebag. Will you please just tell me who I slept with so I don’t have to worry that I’ve got syphilis?

Gabe just laughs.

Sam, trust me on this. You don’t have an STD, so don’t worry so damn much. You’ll remember eventually. Maybe.

There’s no response for a while. Gabe finds himself wandering through the streets of Duluth when Sam finally texts back.

Except it’s not Sam. It’s a picture, from Dean. And the caption, obviously a quote from Sam, reads: You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…

Then, another text comes, from Sam this time.

Thanks, Gabe.

It’s not sarcastic. Not even a little bit. Gabe knows he means it. He just grins. He contemplates leaving things as they are, but hey, he’s got nothing to lose now.

Love you, Sammy. See ya soon.