A/N: Okay, so this is really the first time I've written anything since February of 2011, and the first time I've ever tried writing Supernatural, so please be gentle. And by that I mean don't flame hard enough to make me cry, please and thanks. Also, I don't ever bother getting in touch with my beta, so there may be errors and for that, I'm sorry.

It always starts with a fight. Sometime, Sam thinks, he should start to worry about that.

"Shut up! You're like five feet tall!"

"I'm five-eight, you jackass. Just because I'm not six-two..."

"Six-four!"

"What-the-fuck-ever." Gabriel rolled his eyes. That shouldn't affect Sam the way it does. Nope, not affecting him at all. It doesn't remind him of much more pleasurable ways that Gabriel's eyes can be rolling. Definitely not. What was he saying?

Gabriel appears to have seen the distraction on Sam's face, as he's smirking and coming closer and Sam knows he has the ability to think, it just isn't working right now, dammit...

"Oh, Sammy." And his eyes soften and his face gets nearer and...

"It's Sam." Great comeback, Sam. Still, at least his brain seems to be working again. Sort of.

Gabriel stops. Chuckles. "Shhh, kid. I'm trying to get somewhere here. Can you stop talking and let me do that?"

Sam nods silently and just watches Gabriel right up until their lips finally touch, at which point his eyes close without his express permission and he just feels.

"Sam..."

"Hmm?"

"I love you." And he rushes through it, and it doesn't come out nearly as powerful as he hoped it would, and he may be genuinely scared for the first time in a while because he's never said that to a human and meant it-

And Sam's kissing him like they're the last two people on earth.

Gabriel really doesn't start thinking again until he has two fingers lubed up and working Sam's hole, and then all he really thinks about is the fact that Sam never said anything back. Huh. Though he had missed that part due to that awe-inducing make out session, he now manages to think that through just a little bit, and the feelings coursing through him are no longer particularly pleasant.

Thrusting as hard as he can, listening to Sam's answering moans, all of it seems vaguely less satisfying.

Even his orgasm isn't as mind-blowing and freeing as it usually is.

Luckily, he's had so many thousands of years that he's even perfected having sex without giving away his emotions, but as he turns away with a kiss to Sam's lips and lays down to sleep, it's stuck on a loop in his brain.

He never said anything back. He didn't say I love you too. He didn't say anything. Maybe he's been reading this human wrong the whole time. Maybe, even though he's let Sam get so far under his skin that he can't imagine living without him, maybe Sam doesn't feel the same way. Sure, the display of affection and consequent sex was a nice touch, but he never actually responded. And maybe he's feeding on Gabriel's weakness, knowing perfectly well that sex usually distracts Gabriel enough to not notice things that are going wrong.

Oh, man. This is bad. This is so, so bad. Gabriel turns his face into the pillow. His wonderfully warm, comforting pillow. He has no idea when he falls asleep, but it's not anything restful, so he guesses it doesn't really matter.

The next few days go by uneventfully. Uneventfully by Winchester standards, which still means salt and burns, ganking things, and general havoc. But there's no explosions, no death, no losses, no injuries, even. Pretty darn good for their track record. What Sam means when he says uneventful is his and Gabriel's relationship. Though he can't put his finger on anything physically wrong – Gabriel's a genius at making it seem like Sam's making a bigger deal out of something than it is – something is definitely off. Gabriel's been his normal, sarcastic, smirky self, and Sam's been as normal as he ever is, as far as he's aware, but if Sam had to put a finger on what's wrong, it's that they've been stuck in some awful form of miscommunication, where they haven't talked about anything more meaningful than what to eat for dinner. And while he guesses that happens sometimes in even the best relationships, it just feels wrong.

So that might be what prompts him to try to talk to Gabriel the next evening, when normally they'd be getting ready to make out and possibly more than that, and though he has not a clue how to start this conversation, he really wants to find out what's wrong, and so...

"Hey, Gabe?"

"Hmm?" Gabriel's staring at the tv, but it's not something Sam's ever seen, and by Gabe's tone he's not really interested in it, so Sam presses on.

"Are you- is everything-?" Nothing sounds right coming out of his mouth, and he pauses, tries to regroup. "What's going on?" He hates the wobbly undertone in his voice, but he's been freaking out inside for two days and he really needs to know what happened.

"Nothing, Sam. Why?" And the confused look on his face is genuine, but there's something in his eyes that looks a little bit like fear.

"Gabe. Why are you hiding from me?" And Sam's voice has gone all soft and if Gabriel isn't careful he's going to spill everything and he won't even know how it happened, and he needs to get so far out of this situation. Nonchalance, thy name is Gabriel.

"I'm not, Sam. What are you talking about?"

And Sam's just about to lose the tiny bit of patience he has left. "Bullshit, Gabe! You're lying to me! We both know there's something wrong, and would you please just tell me what happened!"

Gabriel doesn't quite know how it happened (damn Sam and his ability to talk away Gabriel's rational thinking) but all of a sudden he's speaking and what's coming out of his mouth is "Fine! You wanna know what happened? I'll tell you! I make this giant declaration, telling you that I love you, which by the way, I've never told any other human, and you ignored me. You decided to trick me by having sex with me and hoping that I wouldn't notice you'd never said it back. If you don't love me, you could have just said so." And with that statement, he turned away, back towards the tv, looking perfectly calm unless someone happened to notice his hands were clenched hard enough that his knuckles had turned white.

"Wait, Gabe, hold on, what?" Once again encroaching into Gabriel's personal space, he snapped off the tv and stood in front of Gabriel, rapidly becoming the only thing the archangel could see. He tried to pull Gabriel's hands into his own, but Gabe quickly moved them away, holding his face in them instead. If Sam was going to break him down right now, the least he could do was have a little bit of dignity.

"Gabe. No, no, no. It's not that I don't love you. It was never that I didn't love you. I love you, okay? I really, really, really do. I have, for years. I didn't say it back because... because hearing you say those words, finally, was such a huge turn on that I couldn't even think straight. It wasn't intentional. I wasn't trying to distract you. Oh, baby, I thought you already knew that I love you so much it hurts. I didn't think it really needed to be said."

"You didn't?" And while Gabe's hands haven't gone down from his face, he has moved two of his fingers, just enough to peek out and for Sam to kind of, sort of see his eyes.

"Of course I love hearing you say it, but no. I don't need all this verbal stuff. I know I love you. I know you love me. I know that I want to spend the rest of my life hanging out with you and making love to you every night. None of that needs to be said. Now, please, please put your hands down so I can kiss you."

And finally, finally, Gabriel moves his hands and Sam's kissing him sweetly, and the kissing is wonderful, but what's even greater is the make-up sex. Mind-blowing. Awe-inspiring. Loving. Everything making love should be. And Gabriel wouldn't have it any other way.