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Room 17

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The first thing that blurrily comes into focus for Sam, is his shirt.

It's thrown over the lamp, sleeves curling haphazardly around it like it's been caught in an impromptu hug.

There's a sneaker on the table that's far too small to be his.

And there's a very large dent in the wall.

Oh no.

Oh, no, no.

The pieces of last night slot into place, detail after detail in excruciating clarity. There's no fuzzy edge of alcohol to blur the lines with excuses.


Sam suspects they broke the bed. Though he'd have to move to find out for sure, and laying very still is the only sort of self-preservation he can think of at the moment. He's not sure how long he thinks that will work for. He would blame the bed. The stupid, soft bed with lots of pillows. Because the room they'd checked into was classy for a change, big and soft and not even a little bit filled with that familiar mould smell. He thinks this may be punishment. This is the universe's way of telling him he deserves the mould smell. But, no, blaming the bed is pointless, because...they'd already fucked before they got there.

Though that hadn't exactly stopped them trying for more.

He remembers that part very well. Gabriel, shirt still half-clinging to his shoulder, straddling his thighs, barely any weight at all but strong, so fucking strong, laughing like a jackal with his tongue caught between his teeth and Sam should have thrown him off, should have thrown him off rather than grabbed for his hair and tried to pull him down. Gabriel had laughed and caught his wrists and resisted. Though Sam did push him down into the sheets eventually, hips twisting and sliding between his legs, and you never won with Gabriel unless he wanted you to.

"Did you do something to me?" he asks the ceiling.

The bed makes a noise, and a long length of sheet is pulled free of his legs.

"I did a lot of things to you. But I'm guessing they're not the things you're interested in right now."

Sam doesn't even have to ask for clarification. He's never needed alcohol, or unnatural mind powers to make the really stupid decisions. His entire body aches, like he lost a wrestling match. He thinks he probably did.

He swears under his breath.

"You're always telling me I should use my powers for good." There's a laugh to go along with the words. Sam's so glad he's finding this funny. Really.

"Yeah, you kind of missed the point there," Sam says carefully. He's still staring at the ceiling. Possibly because he's afraid to look anywhere else. That's pretty much ruined when a warm hand grips his jaw and turns it sideways - and then he's looking into the very amused eyes of an Archangel.

"You didn't object to any of it - the noises you made, Sam." Gabriel's looking at his mouth now, like he has devious plans for it.

Which isn't fair, because if anyone should get to take advantage this morning it's him.

Gabriel smiles and Sam knows he's doomed.

He's going to keep having sex with unsuitable people forever.