The morning after is a confusing one.
Right to the Graceful heart.
When Gabriel opened his eyes to the first rays of morning light that crossed the thin fabric of the cheap motel curtains he was disorientated.
At first he thought that he must have dozed while the Winchesters were doing some research for a haunt or something (he never really paid much attention), but then he realized the huge heat source wrapped all over his body like a skin blanket and flashes of the last night came to him like punches:
Him dragging Sam to a local bar after the last "salt & burn" case, with de pretext that the child needed to relax from time to time.
Sam swallowing one beer after another until he was barely standing still against de counter of the bar.
The alcohol coursing through his own veins. Maximizing more, if possible, the insane attraction he felt for the younger hunter.
The pair coming back to Sam's motel room, God knows how.
Sam grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him up for a sloppy and heated and messy kiss right before he could disappear.
His mind too intoxicated by the alcohol for try an attempt to flee and don't make the situation worse.
Tanned skin against his own. Sweat. Heat. Passion. Sam claiming, taking him as if there would be no other day on earth.
Oh, Dad, what have I done?
He knew the hunter would be ashamed and would want to know nothing more about the subject. He would blame it all on the alcohol and Gabriel.
Even with the certainty of the rejection in his mind, all what the archangel wanted was to be held on those very same arms, so he decided that he would just take whatever he was offered, even if that was a drunken lie. He just stayed on his spot of the bed, pretending to be asleep, instead of disappearing.
A couple of hours passed and he noticed the body beside him tart to awake.
The breath that had been tickling him on the back of the neck suddenly stopped, and he could almost feel the wide eyes in the face of his bed mate.
A "Oh, no no no no. This has to be a joke. Argh! What the fuck did I do last night? This cannot be happening, not to me. " muttered under breath, while he disentangled himself with a reverent worry for not awakening the angel.
Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut and heard how Sam tiptoed through the room, gathering his clothes and leaving without the shoes on.
The moment the door closed, the angel just hugged the pillow and felt how a tear slipped through his face. Knowledge of rejection was one thing, but hearing him call him a joke? Being splashed in the face with the truth that his wish would never "happen"? That was more than he was able to take.
He inhaled one last time the pillow, with Sam's warmth still on it, and disappeared with a flutter of wings, just when he was broking on sobs.