Of Postcards and Planes
Sam can't really remember who of him or his brother started this stupid tradition they share of sending each other the most ridiculous postcards they can find when they go on trips – well, that's not exactly true.
He did know that Dean sent him the first one (he just didn't know why they decided it would be a good idea to send each other more than that single postcard).
Their father had been a bail bondsman, and after his wife's death (not that Sam had been old enough to even remember anything about her), he had used his job as an excuse to never stay in one place for longer than a few months.
At first, that had been fine by Sam – he enjoyed discovering new places, and he liked meeting different people – but once, they stayed six months in one place (John had gotten injured on that particular job, and healing had required that he stay in one place for at least that length of time), and once Sam had gotten a taste of sedentary life, well, he wanted more.
Unfortunately for him, as soon as his father had been judged fit enough, they had all been back on the road toward a small town in Nevada where a thief who violated his parole had last been seen, and Sam had had to leave the friends he had made behind.
It kind of sucked to be honest, and his mood hadn't improved once he had realized that he had also gotten sick.
It wasn't the kind of sickness that would just go away too – no, it was the kind that came with high fever and chills, the kind where you threw up until you had nothing left in your stomach and then threw up some more. It left you weak and too tired to even complain about it. All in all, it was the kind of illness that everyone despised, because the only way to cure it was bed rest, plenty of liquids and a lot of medicine.
His father had only needed to take one look at him to know that having his son undertake the journey toward the place of his next job would just be cruel, as well as possibly dangerous, and so Sam had been left behind at Bobby's – who was a friend of the family and was always happy to house them whenever they needed – while his father and brother had left for a town at the other end of the States, where rumor placed the latest criminal Sam's father had been tasked to bring back to justice.
It had hardly been the first time John Winchester left his sons behind to pursue a job – usually he did so when he thought it would be too dangerous for them to accompany him – but it had been the first time Sam had been left behind alone.
Saying goodbye, especially to Dean, had been hard, and being separated from who had always been the one constant in his life had hurt had hurt, but in the end, Sam had rather enjoyed their time apart.
Being in a real house for a while instead of staying at a motel had done that, and though they were far away from each other, his family called him almost every day.
It had been during that month that the postcard tradition had started too.
Sam can't remember what the card had looked like – only that it had been ridiculous, full of colors and with a bad joke he had only laughed at because it had sounded like Dean written across it. It had been lost, like so many others after that, when they moved from place to place.
(sometimes, Sam still finds one he thought he had lost forever tucked somewhere in the Impala or in an old book, and it always feels like taking a step back into the past)
He does remember having Bobby drive him into town so he could pick an equally ridiculous card to send back to Dean, and so had started a tradition that both brothers still keep alive now, almost two full decades later.
And that's why Sam is looking at postcards in a Mexican airport – he has been sent here by his firm as part of his job, and now is the first moment he had to himself to look for some souvenir to send back to his brother – hesitating between and black and white card depicting some kind of snake wearing a hat and playing with maracas, and a pink monstrosity where a half-naked woman strikes a pose someone must have thought was sexy while holding a sign saying 'greetings from Mexico', all in caps and in the most obnoxious shade of pink Sam has seen in a long time.
He knows which one his brother would prefer of course, but he's personally fond of the other, thus his dilemma.
He's actually considering just sending the two – Dean would get a kick out of that, and it would hardly be the first time one of them couldn't choose a card to send – when a man's voice interrupts his musing.
"You know, I knew that, technically speaking, people had to buy cards like these because they wouldn't keep making them otherwise, but I never honestly thought I'd ever meet anyone who actually does buy one."
Sam considers not replying for a moment – after all, who hasn't heard horror stories about the things strangers sometimes did in the most random of places or times – but something changes his mind.
Maybe it's the slight teasing lilt he heard at the end of the sentence, or maybe it's Dean's voice in his head, telling him that if he never took a chance on anyone he'd end up as the fifty year-old lawyer version of a cat lady. Sam doesn't really know, and he doesn't particularly care to either.
All he does know is that he turned around, both cards still in his hands, and finds himself staring down at a curly haired, golden eyed man dressed in a Hawaiian shirt that should have been out of place here but somehow fit him perfectly.
"Then maybe you'll be able to tell me which one I should send," Sam replies in an even tone that he's proud to say, doesn't reflect at all his inner turmoil.
The man hums for a moment before speaking again. "Why don't you just ask the owner of this fine establishment?"
Hiding a bark of laughter behind a scoff, Sam sends him a disbelieving look. "And admitting that I'm only interested in those because they're the worst cards he has? I wouldn't do that."
Surprisingly enough, those words make the man smirk and his eyes sparkle with an unholy light. If he wasn't so desperate to find a card so he can get to his flight on time without having to admit defeat – Dean would never let him live it down – Sam might have paused to wonder if this was a good idea.
Unfortunately, he is, and so he's absurdly relieved when the man extends a hand and introduces himself as Gabriel, prankster extraordinaire and the answer to all his problems.
"I'm Sam," Sam greets back as he shifts on his feet.
"Well met, Sam-I-am," Gabriel replies. He then proceeds to ask him dozens of questions about all kind of things, most of them concerning who he's sending the card to and what kind of answer he expects out of it, but once in a while some other kind of question – questions that seem to only relate to Sam and his personal life – slip in, and of course Sam only realizes he has answered them well after the fact.
(here's the thing: Gabriel has kind eyes and he smiles with his whole body in a way that makes Sam wonder what he'd be like laughing – beautiful, whispers his mind – and after barely half an hour of conversation Sam is desperately attracted to a man he probably will never see again)
Gabriel tells him about himself too – he has three brothers and more cousins than he could ever count, and family is hard for him, he loves everything sweet with an unending passion and he once dyed the hair of the entire sport's team silver and green ('Slytherin is the best House, Sammy, don't deny it') back in high school.
It's more fun than he's had in a long time and Sam finds himself wishing this moment could last forever embarrassingly quickly.
The automatized voice calling for passengers to board the plane to Boston kind of ruins that thought though, dragging Sam back into the real world.
"I'm sorry," Sam apologizes, cutting off Gabriel's diatribe about the finer points of rewiring electricity so that everything in a house shuts itself down precisely every twenty-two minutes ('you don't understand, my brother thought the house was possessed, it was hilarious'), and the words taste strangely bitter in his mouth. "I have to go – my plane is leaving soon, and I still have to pay for this," Sam continues, holding up the card that twenty seconds into the conversation, Gabriel had declared was 'the Grail'.
Conveniently enough, that card hadn't been in Sam's pre-selected cards, which had resolved nicely Sam's problem of being unable to choose between the two.
Gabriel looks about just as pleased with this as Sam feels, but he nods with a dramatic sigh. "Alas, it seems like our great enemy has caught up to us," he complains.
"Our great enemy?" Sam asks, an eyebrow arched questioningly, a smile playing on his lips. "I wasn't aware we had one."
"Time, Sammy, time," Gabriel answers with mock offense as they walk to the register. "What else could it be?"
"Well, considering you're the one who brought it up, everything from aliens to the alligators supposedly inhabiting the sewers," Sam retorts with a smirk, nodding at the cashier and handing him the money he asks for.
"Touché," his companion laughs.
As much as Sam wants this conversation to last longer (forever, if possible, a part of his mind suggests unhelpfully), he can't afford to miss his plane and get stranded in Mexico, of all places.
"I guess this is goodbye then?" Gabriel asks as they exit the little shop.
('take a chance,' Dean's voice whispers)
"I guess so," Sam answers, shuffling around uncomfortably. "Just… Wait a moment…"
Rummaging through his pockets for a pen leads to one easily enough – Sam believes in always being prepared, and though he never knows where exactly the pen is, it's always there, somewhere – and though he really hates their designs, he always carry business cards in his wallet, and so scribbling his personal phone number beneath the professional one printed on the small card takes but a handful of seconds.
He almost hesitates before handing it over. "Here, if you want to, you know, keep in touch," he offers with what he hopes is a flirty smile.
It must be, because Gabriel answers with an eyebrow wiggle that definitely is suggestive ."Very forward of you, Mr. Winchester. I approve."
He offers his hand for a handshake, but when Gabriel grasps it, he just uses it yank Sam down and kiss him.
It's a nice kiss. A very nice kiss. It leaves Sam nicely breathless and with a stupid sappy smile he can't quite erase.
"I'll be seeing you," Gabriel teases, and he waves off Sam with a smile.
.x.
Sam will perhaps never know how he manages to miss Gabriel in the boarding line – according to the man himself, Sam had been too lost in his thoughts, and that probably wasn't that far off from what actually happened – but he does.
What he doesn't miss however, is Gabriel plopping down in the seat next to his not five minutes after Sam settles in.
"Didn't I mention that this is my flight too? My bad," Gabriel taunts with a wink.
"And you got the seat next to mine through what, pure chance?" Had it been anyone else, perhaps Sam would have been annoyed at the situation. As it is though, he's only amused by it.
"Oh no, I traded that woman over there." Gabriel gestures to a well-dressed lady sitting with her eyes closed in a window seat three rows over. "Trust me, it wasn't as easy as it looks. That lady's a shark – I had to separate with two very valuable candy bars to get her to agree to this."
"Candy bars? She doesn't seem like the type," Sam says doubtfully.
"They never do Sammy, they never do," Gabriel states matter-of-factly, and Sam can't help but crack up again.
(they chat for the entire flight, and by the time they actually have to get separated, they've set a date two days from now at a restaurant they both know)
(at some point, Gabriel steals Dean's future postcard and draws a big dick on it – it's not even that funny, but Sam can't stop laughing when Dean calls to complain that he's the one who's supposed to send the salacious cards)