One of Gabriel's favourite pastimes was trying to guess people's life stories by their morning cup of coffee.

It sounded strange, but after ten years of working six days a week at Starbucks, he had it down to an art. The forty-something year old man who ordered a double espresso? He was a businessman – stressed, overworked and divorced due to multiple affairs. The pair of girls with dyed blonde hair who liked caramel frappucinos? Students at the local college – probably studying something arty like photography. The elderly lady who ordered two white chocolate mochas just for herself? Her husband had died so she couldn't sleep properly, but she needed to wake herself up to volunteer at a charity shop. Gabriel knew that his judgements were often based on inaccurate stereotypes, but talking to customers nearly always revealed that his guesses were right.

That was why Gabriel was so intrigued by the muscular, shaggy-haired man who wandered in just after seven and asked for a vanilla spice latte.

Looks wise, Gabriel would have placed the man as an athlete – he was perfectly in shape, with the height of a professional basketball player. But the drink he ordered wasn't exactly low on calories, and it was normally favoured by the younger, student crowd that traipsed in with their iPods plugged in at lunch. Gabriel gave him a warm smile as he prepared it, but the smile he received in return looked worn down in the same way a stressed lawyer or doctor's would. For the first time in a while, Gabriel couldn't label this person.

"So, are you a local?" He asked, trying to start a conversation.

The man seemed surprised Gabriel was speaking to him, and it took a few seconds before he shook his head.

"You here with work?" Gabriel hoped his questions didn't come across too much like an interrogation.

"No."

Damn. That voice was nicer than he had been expecting.

The man continued. "I'm here to visit my brother, he recently got engaged to his girlfriend. I wanted to congratulate them. But I hadn't seen him in many years prior to this visit, and he changed more than I was expecting."

Gabriel gave a sympathetic wince, adding some extra vanilla. "That I can empathise with. I have the most screwed up family in the history of families, and I've given up trying to keep track. Michael's on his third wife, I think, Lucifer's in jail – really lives up to the name that one – and Raphael moved to Spain for some inconceivable reason. Castiel works as both a teacher and a gardener, because obviously those two jobs go together, and Anna got locked away for being a danger to society after her third psychotic break. Fuck even knows about Balthazar and Uriel, they've disappeared off the face of the planet. They could have been kidnapped by terrorists for all I know."

Sam was practically gaping at Gabriel, and he realised he had just spilled half his life story to a client. Awkward.

"Sorry about that. Here's your latte, and I added some extra vanilla for you."

The man accepted the drink with a smile. "Don't worry about it. It's nice to get some things off your chest. It makes me feel better as well, in a way, knowing that I'm not the only one with family issues." He paused. "But what's-"

"- With the names?" Gabriel finished. "Or with how many of us there are? I get asked both of those a lot. We're all named after angels because my dad's a Catholic nut. That also explains the number – he doesn't believe in contraception, so bam! Lots of kids."

The man was now leaning back against a pillar by the counter, a strange look on his face. Gabriel wondered if he was speaking the guy out.

"I was named after my grandfather. Samuel. I wouldn't mind except he was sent to prison for organ trafficking before I was even born – and that's a strange relative to name your son after."

Gabriel didn't know whether to be shocked or laugh. He went for both. "Damn, Sammy, and I thought being named after the messenger archangel was rough. Organ trafficking? Really? I mean, Lucifer's probably done worse, but I wasn't aware there was an organ trade back in your grandfather's day."

Sam shrugged easily. "Apparently there was. I got off better than Dean though – that's my brother. He was named after our great-aunt Deanna, which must do wonders for his masculinity."

Gabriel's face split into a wicked grin. "He lives around here you say? If he ever comes in I'll make sure to call him Deanna. Does he look like you?"

Dimples appeared on Sam's cheeks. Shit, when he properly smiled, he really went all out. Gleaming white teeth, cute dimples and eyes that shone in the light. Gabriel was fucked. It was a pity Sam didn't live closer.

"Not really. He's got short hair, kind of murky blonde, and green eyes. He's shorter than me, but he'd be tall compared to you."

"Don't mention the height." Gabriel wagged his finger at Sam. "I haven't mocked you for your Sasquatch-ness, so you can do the same for me."

"Sasquatch-ness? Sammy was bad enough, but Sasquatch?"

"What should I call you then? Sammykins? Samalam? Samuela? Moose?"

At the last name, Sam almost choked on his drink. "Moose? Where did that come from?"

Gabriel beamed. "Moose it is!" At that moment, Gabriel noticed a couple of customers queueing. "Sorry, Moose, I have to get back to work. I don't suppose you'll still be around later?"

Sam seemed surprised. "Um, I was intending to stay a few days with Dean, so my flight home isn't until Tuesday... and seeing as he doesn't want me around, I guess I'm free? Why?"

Gabriel internally fist pumped. "I get off work at three. Why don't we meet up and I can tell you about my madhouse family, and you can bitch about Deanna? Maybe you can even tell me about the reproductive habits of the Moose."

It took Sam a moment to get the final hint, but when he did, he blushed a brighter red than Gabriel had ever seen.

A customer cleared their throat, and Gabriel turned to take their order. By the time he turned back, Sam had gone. He felt a moment of disappointment – until he noticed the hastily scrawled note on the side.

'Gabe' He read 'Meet me by the park at 3.30. I'll be on the bench by the lake. P.S. Sometimes, male moose put out on the first date.'

Gabriel's grin widened until it reached almost terrifying proportions, and it remained that way for almost the whole of his shift. Sam was amazing. Now where had he stashed his box of supplies...