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Sam's almost entirely asleep when he registers the sensation of fingers in his hair, threading through where it's laid across the pillow. Then very carefully drawing some away from his face. It's not so much comforting stroking as a curious exploration. Like someone who's seen his hair from afar and never gotten the chance to examine it.

"Gabriel?" Sam says, voice half muffled but still appropriately warning in tone.

The hand in his hair goes still.


"If I wake up and I have no hair I'm not going to be happy," Sam tells him without opening his eyes.

Gabriel makes a quiet sound of amusement and after a pause he's moving Sam's hair again, tangling it round his fingers in a way that's almost curious.

"I'll try and restrain my artistic impulses," Gabriel sounds far too sensible to be believed.

It occurs to Sam, between one sleepy breath and the next, that he should probably have complained about the touching in general.