AN: This story is interactive. Feel free to pull up the songs as you come to them. Enjoy!

-SW

.oOo.

"Don't Stop" - Foster the People

.oOo.

Sam's foot trod on the Start/Finish line of the recycled rubber track. His momentum took him a few more steps, but each one was slower than the last until he was stopped. He took in a huge gulp of air and let it out. The track he had run was a quarter mile loop, and he had rounded it twelve times. He hated running indoors and the repetition of being stuck on a track instead of enjoying passing scenery outside, but the weather forced him into it today; it was pouring down rain. Still breathing heavily, he walked to the bench where he had left his water bottle and hand towel. The bottle had a sticker on it that read "Dihydrogen Monoxide Containment Unit - WARNING – May cause Diaphoresis, Micturition, and Acute Tissue Hydration." It had been a gift from his older brother, Dean, and he loved it. Sam tilted the bottle back and drank deeply, not caring when some water dribbled down the corner of his mouth and joined the sweat rolling down his neck. He held the towel in his other hand and used it to mop the sweat from his face. After a few more deep breaths, he was ready to walk downstairs.

The track stood on the second story of the gym, open on the inside to look down upon basketball courts. Since it was the only thing upstairs, it had the feel of a newer add-on to an older building. Mirrors dominated the walls at the ends of the straightaways; Sam supposed they were for runners to correct their form, but he didn't care for staring at himself while he ran. Other than that, he liked his local gym.

He descended stairs that took him to a long hallway. Next to the bottom stair was the door leading to the basketball courts over which he had been running. The rest of the hallway had windows all along the upper half of the walls, so there was an undisturbed view into the rooms beyond. On his right side was a room full of free weights. He had already spent some time in there this morning, before his run. He preferred to lift first; running took too much out of him to want to exert his muscles after.

To his left was the yoga studio, which was where Sam was heading. He liked a good stretch after running, and while Dean would give him a hard time about it -probably along the lines of telling him yoga was for suburban moms who drank soy lattes- he really did enjoy using a yoga mat. It was easier on his knees, and goodness knows they had been abused over the years. Being a fairly regular runner likely wasn't helping, but he refused to give up his favorite form of cardio.

As Sam's feet hit the floor at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes were for his MP3 player. He was in the process of switching from good running music to something a little more soothing, and in the lull of quiet, his ears picked up sounds coming from the propped open doorway of the weight room. Someone was making some serious sex noises.

Sam chanced a peek through the windows, trying to be discrete. The rain seemed to have kept people from showing up because there were only a few bodies in there, and it was easy for Sam to pick out the guy who was making the sounds.

"Uuuhhhggghh, ssssssss!" The exhale and inhale were both obscene, and Sam was almost ready to roll his eyes and put the guy out of his mind until he really focused on him.

He was short, well, short in comparison to Sam and the company he usually kept. Dean and his boyfriend were both six foot plus. Sam, himself, was six-four. This guy was maybe five-seven, five-eight or so. Even from across the room, just the shape of his face made Sam want to take it between his hands and explore the details. His blond hair was shorter than Sam's, which was pulled into a half-looped ponytail high on the back of his head, but it was long enough that it hung messily around his temples, sweat dripping from the ends with each pump of his arms as he lifted the loaded barbell to his chest noisily. Sweat made a darkened imprint across the gray tanktop he wore, just under his pecs, and for all the world, Sam thought it looked like a pair of angel wings stretching across his torso. As that thought formed fully in his mind, he had to remind himself not to stare. He cast his eyes back down to his MP3 player and found the playlist he had put together to accompany his stretch and walked further down the hall to the door of the yoga studio. Though the two rooms were across from each other in the hall, the doors were set apart. With the music in his ears and the walls separating them, the moans from the blond weren't reaching him.

.oOo.

"I Need U" - BTS (piano version)

.oOo.

Sam helped himself to a rolled mat from the rack near the door and found a section of unclaimed floor. It wasn't difficult; there was only one other person in there, and she was tucked against the far wall, doing pushups with the aid of an upside down Bosu ball. Sam found himself feeling grateful for the rain. Less people crowding the room between actual yoga lessons meant he could get an unobstructed view of the blond hottie across the hall. Still wanting to be discrete, he turned his back to the windows facing the weight room and used the mirrors on the far wall to see him.

The blond had finished his set and was swinging his arms in a hugging motion to ease the strain on his arms. He shook his hands down in front of himself, and Sam watched as he positioned himself then crouched out of sight for a moment. He lifted back up, barbell in hands, and curled it to his chest in the first rep of his next set. Sam couldn't actually hear the noises spilling from the blond's mouth, but he remembered them well enough. They were sounds Sam wouldn't mind hearing if the two of them were together, some place alone. He tore his eyes away from the blond and tried to focus on his own post workout stretches.

The soft, almost hypnotic music washed over him, perfect for slowing his heartrate, and the familiar movements of post-run stretching took over. It wasn't until he was close to wrapping it up that he suddenly realized he hadn't peeked into the weight room in a while. His dark green eyes scanned across the mirrors, searching for the sweaty blond hair. When he didn't see him, Sam turned to look without the aid of the reflection. The blond was gone. Sam felt a stab of disappointment surge through him. He had been so careful to not stare that he ended up denying himself the simple pleasure of just enjoying the view. Dammit.

He shook off the feeling as he went through the motions of using the provided antibacterial wipes to clean off the mat he used, roll it up, and put it back on the rack. He never picked people up at the gym; it's not like he was going to start now. Sam made his way back to the hallway and followed it to the locker room. As he neared the door, the windows in the walls stopped, granting privacy beyond. He entered the room and rounded the corner past the sinks to rows of dark blue lockers.

.oOo.

"Breathe" - Alexi Murdoch

.oOo.

Standing there, with his back to Sam's entrance, was the blond from the weight room. He was in the process of removing the gray tank, and Sam had an unobstructed view of his rounded shoulders and corded back muscles, slick with sweat. Forgetting himself, Sam stared as the blond dropped his shirt on the shoes and socks already on the floor beside him. A pulse of desire tugged at Sam's groin, and he must have made a sound -please don't let it have been verbal- because the blond's head turned over his shoulder to catch Sam staring at him. This close, Sam was finally able to see that his eyes were the most amazing color he had ever seen. They were like dark honey; sinfully sweet, tempting. Like a flavor that stayed on your tongue long after you had swallowed it, Sam knew those eyes would stay with him.

The blond's eyebrows lowered, and a playfully wicked smile pulled at the corners of his lips before he turned away again to the open locker before him. He pulled out a folded, fluffy white towel and a black gym bag, both of which he set on the bench which bisected the room, making him face Sam again. When those amazing eyes locked on his once more, Sam realized he was still staring. He pulled his gaze away and forced his feet to move him to the locker he had claimed for his own belongings. It took him past the blond, and Sam could feel his eyes on his back as he walked.

Only fair, he told himself. I was staring first.

Sam opened his locker and chanced a glance over his shoulder to the blond, and he quickly turned back again when he saw a long line of bare flesh where just a moment ago had been a pair of black basketball shorts. Heat flared up Sam's cheeks. Admiring the top half was one thing, but he didn't make a habit of being a creeper.

Something tugged at his hearing. After a moment, it occurred to Sam the blond had said something. He pulled one bud out of his ear and turned his head to look carefully at the blond's face. Just as well; he stood there with the towel in hand but hadn't wrapped it around his waist. Yes, Sam stared very hard at his face and fought himself to not look lower.

"What?"

"I said, 'did you know the back of your neck turns red when you blush?'" the blond repeated with a grin.

The heat that had been receding came back in a rush, and Sam turned again to the locker, the sound of a very sexy chuckle drifting across to him. The sharp slap of flip flops on the floor announced the blond's retreat. Sam looked over to see the towel slung carelessly over the blond's shoulder, allowing Sam an unobstructed view of a rather nicely shaped ass, firm and dimpled in on the sides, the ass of someone who knew how to take care of his body. As Sam stared, the blond glanced back, catching him, almost like he knew Sam would be looking. A dark knowledge filled his face, and that wicked smile was back. His eyebrows bounced a few times in what would have been a silly motion, but somehow, he made it look enticing. The blond disappeared around the corner that led to the gang shower.

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Desire tugged at him, and while blood had been coloring his face -and neck, apparently- it had also been tightening things further south. He didn't want to stroll into the shower and show the blond exactly how he had been affected by the teasing. He took his time in undressing and gathering his hygienic supplies. Some guys were okay with using the soap dispensers on the walls, but there was no way Sam was going to wash his hair with that junk. He had his belongings in a small, neat basket, not unlike what he had used in the shared showers in college. His dirty clothes were shoved into his gym bag. He had pulled the band out of his hair and shaken loose the long strands, letting them fall to barely grace the tops of his shoulders. His shower shoes were snugged onto his feet, and his towel was tucked tightly around his waist. Still, he hesitated. His slow pace had allowed him to gain control of his body and the urges that pressed at him, but he was fairly certain that seeing the blond in the shower, watching as the water sluiced along his body, how his muscles would bunch as he pushed his hair back from his face...

Sam blinked away the images too late. His body was reacting again, tenting the towel that covered him.

Hell with it, he decided. If he can tease, so can I.

He strode toward the entryway to the showers and was almost at the corner when the blond rounded it, rubbing his own towel across his wet hair. They nearly collided, and both startled back in surprise. Sam, to his credit, recovered first.

"Enjoy your shower?" he asked, looking down at the shorter man and allowing his dark green eyes to fill with all of the thoughts he had just been having.

For a moment the blond looked as though he had been struck between his lovely, golden eyes. Sam watched the surprise melt back to the sass he had been wearing before, but not before he took in the sight of Sam's long hair surrounding his face. Even matted with sweat, Sam's favorite feature was his hair, and he always noticed when people admired it. "Could have been better," the blond quipped.

"Maybe next time, it will be." Sam tried to walk away before letting the blond reply, but he was stopped by fingertips touching his upper arm.

"You were watching me," the blond said. "Not just in here, but before. You angled yourself so you could watch me in the mirror."

How had he known? Sam had thought he was being subtle.

"Was it the mating calls?" the blond joked with a grin and an upward flick of his eyebrows. Sam couldn't help but smile back, but the humor leaked from both of them as their eyes penetrated each others.

"It wasn't your sounds that made me watch you," he replied quietly.

"No?" The blond quirked an eyebrow up at him, still smiling like he had a nefarious secret. "Do tell."

Sam let his eyes travel the face in front of him, making a show of drinking in all the details from his dampened hair now tousled from the partial drying and laying across his smooth forehead, the neatly trimmed sideburns, the thin, perfect lips, the point of his chin, and back to those amazing, whiskey-kissed eyes. He watched them understand his silent answer, and they returned a similar gaze. The short distance between their two bodies suddenly seemed smaller.

"What's your name?" Sam asked.

"If I tell you my name, will you look at more than just my face like that?"

Sam allowed heat to cross his expression. That was why the blond had been strutting around with his towel in hand. He had been waiting for Sam to see him, to really look at him. Sam gave him one better. "If you want, I'll do more than just look."

A visible shudder ran through the blond. "Gabriel," he all but whispered. "My name is Gabriel."

"Gabriel," Sam said his name softly. "I'm Sam."

.oOo.

"The Adventure" - Angels & Airwaves

.oOo.

"I... I actually have to go," Gabriel said.

Sam nodded, but he didn't move toward the showers until Gabriel managed a few steps backwards then turned to walk the rest of the way to his locker. Sam unwound the towel from his waist and draped it on a hook protruding from the wall a safe distance from the nearest shower head.

Gabriel deposited his towel on the bench and started dressing.

Sam stood under the hot water, eyes closed, scrubbing shampoo into his long, brown hair.

Gabriel slung the strap of his gym bag over his shoulder and walked to the exit. He hesitated at the corner that led to the showers, watching the steam roll through the room. Then he left.

Sam turned off the water. He ran his hands across his hair, squeezing excess water from it before retrieving his towel.

Gabriel steered his 1974 Chevy Nova out of the gym parking lot and pressed down the accelerator, the engine growling with the increase of speed.

Sam left the showers and walked back into the locker room, towel held firmly around his waist with one hand, the other holding his basket. As he approached his locker, he saw a white business card sitting on the bench where Gabriel had been. He picked it up.

Gabriel Archan

Graphic Designer

(785) 555-3825

He flipped the card over, and as he hoped, there was something more on the back.

I plan to take you up on your offer. Hear from you soon. - Gabe