Days like today are ones where Sam Winchester wants to pick up, move on, and go back to hunting. He's been out of the game for over a year and he and Dean have settled in small-town, east-bum-fuck nowhere. He drives 40 minutes to and from work which is a shitty job in a consulting firm where he spends 75% of his day running errands for his idiot boss, 20% playing catch up on the work he's behind on because he's so busy running errands for his idiot boss, and 5% getting reamed out for not having his work done because he's too fucking busy running ERRANDS FOR HIS IDIOT BOSS.
So he has a nice 40 minute drive home with which to replay the wonders of the day and work himself up so much that by the time he pulls into the driveway and trudges up to the house, he's not sure if he wants to laugh hysterically, cry uncontrollably, or scream at the top of his lungs. It's Friday and that means he doesn't have to go into work tomorrow and also that he will be getting superbly drunk tonight.
Home is a nice little house. It doesn't have a picket fence or anything, but it's an actual roof and actual walls that he gets to call his own. Dean and Cas settled in a similar one across town after Sam had walked in on them one too many times.
He never wants to see that much of either of them again. Ever.
Sam fits the key in the door and pauses for a moment, his forehead pressed against the cool wood. He hopes Gabriel is home, but the life of a renegade archangel is not that conducive to a sedentary existence and the angel is constantly on the move. He moves to push open the door, only to have it pulled out of his grasp.
"Are you wearing an apron?" Because when he looks at his angel boyfriend, all he sees are pink frills and what the hell is going on?
"Sure am, Sammykins!" And Gabriel sounds so cheerful that Sam is instantly afraid for his life. Or at the very least, his body hair.
Trust him, there's no way you wanna know that story.
"Why are you wearing an apron?" he prompts.
"Because I was baking, duh."
What.
"Gabriel, you don't bake. You snap things into being."
The angel pouts at him as he ushers him into the living room and snaps away his coat—which does nothing for his case that he's been baking. "I can do things the old fashioned way too, Samsquatch. I am a celestial being of many talents, you know." Gabriel waggles his eyebrows and snaps a mental image of the last time they had sex into Sam's brain. The human flushes because it was really—well it was really fucking hot. Gabriel uses two fingers to push gently at Sam's chest and get him settled onto the plush leather couch.
"Don't move! I'll be right back." He sweeps off into the kitchen and is back with a tray laden with what looks like 5 different kinds of cookies. Sam gapes at him and his eyes follow the tray as Gabriel set it next to him on the couch. When his eyes slide back to the angel he realizes that Gabriel is wearing nothing bit a pair of silk boxers underneath his frilly pink apron.
And then he's got a lap full of mostly naked angel and he decides that his day might be getting better.
Sam runs his fingers down the bare skin of Gabriel's back and he can feel the goosebumps rise on the angel's flesh. His fingers come to rest on the other man's hips, gripping tight enough for Gabriel's skin to fade white around the edges of his fingertips. The angel grins and settles his weight against Sam, a subtle roll from his hips had the ex-hunter's breath catching in his throat. Gabriel's hands end up stroking through Sam's hair as he presses a gentle kiss on his forehead.
"How was your day, Sammy?" he whispers against Sam's ear and punctuates it by pressing himself down firmly along the human's lap.
"It's getting better," Sam grunts, digging his fingers into the angel's hips and pulling him, trying to control the undulations but Gabriel smiles wickedly and sets his own rhythm. Sam huffs in annoyance, which only serves to spur the archangel on.
Another roll has Sam whining Gabriel's name. The angel just laughs and shoves a snickerdoodle cookie into Sam's mouth.
"Quiet you. I'm trying to cheer you up," he scolds. The human rolls his eyes at first but when he starts to chew, his eyes bug out and Gabriel stills when he sees the look on Sam's face. The angel laughs, "Good, huh?"
"Gabriel, this is the best cookie I've ever eaten," he moans appreciatively. Gabriel's eyes are shining in a way Sam's never seen before. The angel looks so proud and so happy and if this were a romance novel or some kind of chick-flick he might say his heart skipped a beat.
Other times, when Gabriel doesn't think the human is watching, he gets this cloud in his eyes that breaks Sam's heart more than a little bit. It's like, he's remembering his long, lonely life and all the things he's done wrong and all the opportunities he's missed. When Sam catches him like that, he knows he wants to do everything he can to change it.
More often than not, he catches Gabriel looking at him like he doesn't quite understand what's happening; like he's not sure he's allowed to have whatever it is they have. Sam thinks that maybe that's why he leaves so much, because he has this stupid notion that he doesn't deserve the human. And it's the strangest thing because Sam feels the same way. Seriously, what has Sam Winchester done in his life to deserve an actual, no-holds-bar, holier-than-thou, angel of the lord—complete with freaking wings (Sam has seen them, touched them, kissed them).
But right now, with his hands buried in his hair, their bodies pressed close—so close together, and laughter in Gabriel's eyes, Sam thinks that maybe they do both deserve this.
"I love you," he murmurs and the angel freezes.
Oh shit.
Gabriel's peering—angel head tilt and all—down at him because they still haven't said it despite the fact that the archangel basically saved them from Lucifer and the Apocalypse and then pulled Sam from the slippery slope of self-hate with a smile and a few well placed sexual innuendos.
"Please don't leave," Sam pleads and the angel's expression goes from surprised to concerned in a flash.
"What? Why would I leave?" he asks.
Sam blinks up at him, and then he looks away because the way Gabriel is staring feels like he's not just looking at Sam but through his outside to what's lying buried underneath. He should have just taken the damn cookies and not let his mind wander and have a revelation his big, dumb feelings.
"Sam, look at me," Gabriel demands and it's one of those times where Sam can't not look. He can feel the angel's power and even though it scares the shit out of him, he loves to feel Gabriel's grace wash over him. He meets the angel's eyes and the way the light hits them, they look gold.
"You're such a stupid moose, you know that right?" Gabriel laughs. Sam feels the heat rush to his cheeks.
"Gabriel—"
"I love you, idiot," the angel says and Sam feels Grace brush his face and wrap around him like it does when Gabriel is stupidly happy.
He smiles up at his angel. "You love me?"
"I made you cookies from scratch, Sam. Of course I do. I've just been waiting for you to notice," Gabriel says with a grin. He grips Sam by the cheeks and kisses him until he can't breathe.
It's a good day after all.