Chapter Text
It shouldn’t have made him feel this way- seeing Gabriel and Rowena together.
Together…
It wasn’t just an insinuation, it was the promise, with the state of dishevel that he and Dean had found them in. Lipstick and clothes mussed, Gabriel’s breathing faltering as he runs a hand through his presently unruly hair and plays the interruption off. Sam’s thoughts are more than just a little derogatory towards the archangel as a deep frown sets onto his face and a heavy weight settles into his limbs; and throat. Attraction was always something he’d struggled with, both handling it, as well as admitting it.
This current event lit him with a nasty, befuddling anger, bringing out part of his self-conscious he’d thought he’d long buried.
Soon enough, the horrible moment was over and they’d all dispersed, and the moment was over for everyone… except Sam.
Trying to do research after that was a personal hell. Thoughts of inadequacy he was trying not to give way to sat heavily against the forefront of his mind. But it grew more than that as the days passed, emotion crawling outwards despite himself. Before, he and Gabriel had a well-established easy-going back and forth, a warm friendship even; the archangel tossing glances and jokes his way, looking for some sort of hint of approval from the Winchester with a clever glint in his eye. Now, he was only being met with repose from the younger Winchester.
After a hunt, Sam is sat in the back of the Impala with Gabriel to his right. If his eyes aren’t trained on the back of Dean’s head, they find the scenery outside his window very interesting.
“Right, Samsquatch?” Comes the quip and the gentle elbow- Sam just gives him a disapproving look before continuing to straight up ignore him.
The cold edge as of recent hadn’t gone unnoticed by Gabriel. As the boys had been in and out of the bunker, he hadn’t been able to put his finger down on when exactly it had started. Surely not after he’d had his hands all over the King of Hell’s delightfully witchy mother… ?
That just wouldn’t make any sense. He’d always broadly advertised himself as something of a lady killer. Definitely sex forward, not at all shy. He’d all but rubbed it in the boys’ faces multiple times over their storied years together.
Still… it caused the archangel pause.
He had a certain spark and hesitation where Sammy Winchester was involved. Where Castiel had served as Dean Winchester’s guardian angel of sorts, Gabriel had always hovered near Sam’s essence. Something about him; without any of the knowing of the overarching plot his father had set in motion, drew him in like a moth to a flame. Their game often ended with his wings singed and barbecued. He’d taken proud hits because of them, FOR them, multiple times.
While others had stakes in the success or fall of the boys, Gabriel’s interest was dubious. As was his interest in Sam.
“I’ve noticed the cold shoulder.” Gabriel slides into the library, resting his upper back against the doorframe, posture relaxed despite his serious tone; similar to the past when they’ve meant business. And yet despite the stern approach, Sam isn’t at all responsive. Instead, he continues with his book, only glancing once up at the shorter being. Quickly.
“No. I’m just busy. I have work to do.” What, implying that Gabriel doesn’t?
Sam tries to summon up a stern tone to respond with but instead he just ends up sounding tired. Defeated. And he is. He’s been tired for a long time, and he has no interest in sorting through the squabble in his head thst the events from a week prior had caused.
“Awee, c’mon Sam. You always have time for me… ,” I always have time for you! Yet, the thought goes unspoken as Gabriel pushes away from the doorframe; true to his Loki namesake, what should have been ten steps was two, and the book is taken from Sam, flipped over and…
“Would you knock it off? I do not have time for your bullshit right now. Didn’t then and I definitely don’t now. That was YOUR M.O., not mine.” Gabriel’s brows are furrowed at the presenting pages of the book. Although it seems like he’s interested, he’s not- he’s concerned by the response.
“It never bothered you before.” Now the archangel meets Sam’s eyes as the hunter grabs the book back, rather forcefully. They’ve rounded together between the shelves, the intensity in the air bristling with a rather bright ferocity.
Beneath worn plaid, Sam’s upper shoulders are drawn tight.
Gabriel’s a sight. He has been lately, not as put-together and high and mighty as he’d always seen him previously. He’s been left desperate by certain events, stumbled from whatever pedestal that had given him such haughty confidence before.
But Sam having a past now with Gabriel’s various brethren had also changed the dynamic. He used to be… so enthralled with Gabriel’s demeanor. He’d felt special, being graced by his attentions. Now… ? “Look,” hazel eyes glare at Gabriel’s feet. “I’m not in the mood for your little games. It’s not… ,” -honest attention. Sam swallows. No way he can say that out loud. No way he’d even admitted that internally. This was Sam Winchester; boy wonder of hell, vessel for Lucifer. A man who’d walked the line of innocence and had it ripped cruelly from his grasp more times than he could count. He’d prayed and tried to be holy, to ask for deliverance for himself and his family, and what had it ever gotten them? What had it ever gotten HIM?
This. There it was- the reminder that Gabriel only cared about fucking with him in the cosmic sense.
He’s openly frazzled and for once, the archangel says nothing. He has nothing to say. Face open but a tad slack, he studies Sam’s features carefully, openly- unlike how Sam is hiding his eyes. Good thing for the hunter too, because they’re clouded with emotion.
“What did I do?”
The space between Gabriel’s shoulder-blades itch. His throat shifts as he swallows.
“You didn’t DO anything.”
That was the exact problem.