Dean spent an entire week watching videos of people acting goofy post-wisdom tooth extraction on youtube and shoving his phone or the laptop into Sam's face, teasing him. Sam always shook his head and acted unaffected, but inside he was shriveling up with worry. He knew he was going to give Dean a lifetime supply of embarrassing ammo. It wasn't a threat, but a guarantee, and it loomed over him. Dean had been lucky enough to have wisdom teeth that came in and left the rest of his teeth alone.
Sam was less lucky.
He was scheduled to have all four removed the next day, and with their dad being out of town, the responsibility of driving Sam home fell to Dean. Really, even if their dad was going to be around, Dean still would have been given the task. Sam didn't even bother mentioning his scheduled appointment to his best friend, Gabriel. He knew that would only add to the distress Dean brought him since Gabriel had an even bigger inclination to create mischief for his own selfish entertainment.
Sam took his usual chair at the lunch table, to Gabriel's left. "How excited are you to graduate? Can you believe we only have two months left in this hellhole?" Gabriel popped a grape in his mouth and gazed at Sam expectantly.
"Time is flying," Sam said vaguely, internally stomping down the niggling concerns about running out of time that outweighed any desire to expedite whatever may be left here. Here being familiarity, simplicity... Gabriel. Sam felt his face start to form into an unsatisfactory expression. He shooed his thoughts away again, working his face closer to a smile.
"Whoa, you okay there? You started looking like Cas that time when part of his face was paralyzed." Gabriel's honey colored eyes caught Sam's, searching and warm. Sam prayed his cheeks weren't as heated as they felt.
"I'm fine," Sam laughed in a way that he hoped sounded natural. Not forced. How lame.
"Uh huh. Honestly, what's going on in that brain of yours? Lately you've seemed off, somehow."
"I have to get my wisdom teeth out, and I've never had teeth pulled before," Sam was only half lying. He hadn't ever undergone teeth pulling, and he was worried about his wisdom teeth. But that didn't quite touch what was souring his mood right now.
"Oh, well that explains it," Gabriel looked approximately half-relieved, but more like he didn't quite buy it. He may have had an unconventional sense of humor, but he was much sharper than most gave him credit for.
"Yeah, I mean, have you seen what people do when they're all messed up on whatever drugs they pump you up with? They do and say some of the most humiliating things."
"This is basically a death sentence when you've got siblings," Gabriel grinned, his understanding of Sam's predicament becoming clear. Sam could only imagine what Gabriel would do if Castiel was the one getting his teeth out. Sam elected to ignore the minuscule twist of his gut in response to Gabriel's sly smile, Gabriel's twinkling eyes, Gabriel's quirked eyebrows. "Wait," Gabriel came out of his devilish reverie, restoring his less-impish face. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? If it's been bugging you, you could've said something."
"You have a little bit of a mischievous streak, Gabriel. Why would I tell you? You're just as much of a threat as Dean, possibly even more of one," Sam explained, eating a forkful of school lunch quality green beans.
"True. But what am I going to do about it? It's not as if you're gonna be wheeled out of the dentist's office to see me afterwards. If anything, I'd probably drop by later on to give you a get well soon card. Maybe even some balloons. Chicken soup. By then you'd probably be over the effects. What reason on God's green earth do I have to make fun of you? I'm practically a saint."
"You're really funny, you know that?" Sam shook his head good-naturedly.
"So, when are you supposed to get those suckers out?"
"Tomo- In a few months." Damn it.
"Tomorrow, you said?" Gabriel's wicked grin had made a swift comeback. Sam sighed after a brief moment of not speaking.
"Yes."
"Cool. Good luck with that. Are you getting out of school early?" Gabriel was no longer visibly plotting Castiel's theoretical downfall, or Sam's potential downfall.
"Nope, my appointment is an hour after school's out." Sam wondered if he was going to regret specifying that piece of information.
"Nervous?" Dean leered, walking alongside Sam after parking the Impala.
"Never," Sam responded with confidence, taking a deep breath.
"Atta boy," Dean slugged him on the arm affectionately.
"Name, please?" The receptionist greeted Sam pleasantly inside the building.
"Sam Winchester."
"Alrighty, I've got you checked in. Have a seat and she will be with you shortly," she offered a bright smile.
Sam picked a seat and pulled a pen out of his pocket. He wiped his palm on his jeans and then wrote "keep your mouth shut! don't speak!" across the flesh of his palm before pocketing the pen and turning his attention to the TV in the corner.
"Talkative, I see," Dean commented.
"As if you're a regular conversationalist," Sam shot back, arms crossed over his front. Dean's cell phone rang.
"I'll be right back, it's dad," Dean told him, rising and answering the phone, moving through the lobby and out the doors. Before Dean finished his business on the phone, a hygienist appeared and called Sam's name. She led him through the back and started preparing him for the anesthesia.
When Sam opens his eyes again, he isn't sure how much time has passed. He felt a bit funny and he thought that maybe there's something in his mouth, but he wasn't very sure about that. Sam is in a wheelchair, and the lady that called him back is the one pushing it. They passed through the doors and into the lobby again.
"I'm here to bring him home," a familiar voice called. Sam frowned and his face betrayed any and all confusion in his head. He may or may not have slurred "Who's that? What happened to Dean?" He turned his head in a roundabout way to see Gabriel standing and speaking to the hygienist.
"My car's right out here, ma'am," Gabriel guided her outside and unlocked his vehicle, opening the front passenger door.
"Can you stand up?" She tapped Sam's shoulder.
"My cheeks feel so big," he groaned.
"Stand up if you can," she directed him in a kind voice. Sam shakily grasped the armrests of the wheelchair and started to push himself up. He stumbled and began to move back towards the wheelchair, but Gabriel grabbed his arms and helped steady him.
"You're soft," Sam huffed, slumping against Gabriel. "I'm falling," Sam laughed breathlessly.
"You're alright, buddy," Gabriel brushed Sam's hair out of his eyes. Sam was a mess. Sam teetered like he was going to tip over. Gabriel's body reacted before his brain did, and it resulted in Gabriel pressing Sam against the hood of the car, pinning Sam to the car with most of the strength in his upper body. The hygienist giggled. Gabriel's face burned.
"Do you need help?" She offered.
"I've got it covered, thanks," Gabriel reassured her. She nodded and went back inside, wheelchair in tow.
"Thank you!" Sam hollered in her direction, loopy smile gracing his face. Gabriel tried to be less amused.
"Come on," he urged Sam, fixing his hands under Sam's armpits and tugging him upwards. Sam remained limp and noodle-like, content to stay pressed to the hood. "Sam," Gabriel wasn't even sure that simple commands made sense to Sam's anesthesia laced brain. "Straighten your legs and pull yourself up. Can you do that?"
"I'm so tired... that cloud looks like your dad," Sam's head lolled to the side. "That lady was so nice to me."
Gathering up every last bit of will in his body, Gabriel managed to physically force Sam upright and rapidly lead his wobbly body to the passenger seat.
"Keep doing that," Sam commented.
"What? This?" Gabriel was confused, because all he was doing was leaning over Sam to buckle him up. Sam nodded solemnly. Gabriel let a smile cross his face.
"Don't put your hands or fingers in the way of the door," Gabriel instructed, straightening up and closing the door before Sam did anything in response.
"I can't feel my mouth," Sam informed Gabriel once he was in the driver's seat. "Do I still have a mouth?" Sam had his clumsy hand prodding around his own chin and lips, brows furrowed and eyes partially squinting.
"You still have a mouth," Gabriel confirmed, looking at Sam and starting the engine. He turned his gaze back to the road.
"Do you like my mouth?" Sam questioned, fingers still touching his bottom lip.
"Uh," Gabriel started. What is he supposed to say to that? Would the drugs make Sam cry if Gabriel told him 'no?' "Sure, Sam. You have-" What? A pretty mouth? Gabriel choked on saliva. "It's a nice enough mouth."
"Thank. Thanks," Sam let his mouth hang open a small amount. A little bit of cotton peeked out from the corner of his lips.
"Yep," Gabriel kept facing forward, eyes on the road. "Did that hurt?"
"I don't think so. It was good. It was nice. I feel good. Except for my mouth. I can't feel that, can you feel that?" He turned his head and jutted the lower half of his face towards Gabriel. "Touch it, it won't hurt," Sam encouraged Gabriel.
"I'm good," Gabriel answered patiently, not looking at his passenger.
"I can't feel my cheeks," Sam added after a moment, receding back into his side of the vehicle. "Help me."
They were parked in front of the Winchesters' house. Gabriel realized this meant he was going to have to somehow get Sam all the way through the driveway, up the three porch steps, and all the way inside to the couch, if not Sam's bedroom.
"Where's Dean?" Sam asked when Gabriel cut the engine.
"He had to go help your dad with something, I don't know. It must have been important if it couldn't wait fifteen more minutes," Gabriel said more than he needed to. Sam's confused but lighthearted expression morphed and contorted until he was screwing his eyes shut and dropping his head against the car window. Sam huffed unsteadily and tears started to prick the corners of his eyelids. Gabriel swore under his breath.
"Don't cry, Sam, it's okay." Gabriel didn't expect most of this to go as it had. He was caught between laughing at Sam and feeling pangs of guilt or empathy. Sam reached up towards Gabriel's head and the tears subsided. A smile reappeared on his face and he dragged his fingers through Gabriel's hair.
"You should fix this. It looks like crap," Sam giggled and patted Gabriel's head. "Your eyes are so nice. So beautiful," Sam sighed quietly, bringing a blush to Gabriel's cheeks. Sam started to reach into his own mouth. "These are gross," he started to pull the cotton out of his mouth.
"No nononono," Gabriel swatted Sam's hands down and away from his mouth. Sam's face cracked and buckled, becoming full of grief again. His mouth hung open helplessly and tiny sobs escaped, pulling at Gabriel's mixed feelings again. "Let's get you inside," Gabriel was starting to sound resigned. Sam nodded in comprehension.
In the house, Sam settled on the couch. Gabriel turned the TV on.
"Do you want me to stay until your family's back?" Gabriel asked.
"Mhmmm," Sam dragged the sound out and fixed his attention to the screen. "Get a blanket," he requested absently. Gabriel retrieved one from Sam's room and covered him with it before making himself comfortable on the other side of the couch.
"That's not right," Sam determined out loud. Gabriel didn't have the mind to ask Sam what he was referring to, but soon figured it out. Sam draped himself over Gabriel, dwarfing his small frame.
"Hang on," Gabriel wriggled, trying to readjust enough to breathe normally. He wasn't really going to complain about the fact that this was what Sam deemed right, but it would be preferable if he didn't pass out from a lack of oxygen.
"Am I hurting you?" Sam's voice was sprinkled with childishness. Gabriel shrugged, unsure of what would make Sam's drug induced emotions upset enough to cry some more.
"I'm okay," Gabriel replied, shifting some more. Sam wrapped his arms around Gabriel, laughing.
"You're like a human body pillow, Gabriel," Sam giggled and laid his head against Gabriel's shoulder. How this would be explained to Dean or John, Gabriel didn't know, but for now, he planned to live in the moment.