AN: Okay, so this one is a direct continuation of Day 3… Hopefully I have redeemed myself from yesterday's shitty ending… Also I couldn't think of anything for this one for hours dear god, and then my beautiful friend nonrelativistic helped me out. The restaurant used in this is Bloesem, a Dutch restaurant in Amsterdam, and was John Green's inspiration for Oranjee in The Fault in Our Stars. I had a foodgasm just looking up what reviews said they had. And John Green, might I add, is MY inspiration and role model for writing at all. Author's note aside, on with the disclaimer.

Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sabriel would've been canon the moment they saw each other in the first Trickster episode. Sadly, Mr. Kripke and the CW have decided to kill (or not kill?) both Sam AND Gabriel way too many times for it to be healthy. (Also I don't own Bloesem, nor have I been there, but it IS in Amsterdam and John Green said that the food is rather good.)

ALSO A QUICK SHOUT OUT TO MY FRIENDS FOR BEING A PAIN IN THE ASS WHILE I WAS WRITING THIS. THOSE COMMENTS WERE NOT NECESSARY. AND ALSO THERE WAS A LOT OF RESEARCH ABOUT DUTCH RESTAURANTS, YUMMY FOOD, AND WINE INVOLVED AND I MAY HAVE GOTTEN LOST IN AMSTERDAM ONCE OR TWICE YESTERDAY AFTERNOON…

Title: In Which Gabriel Takes Sam Out On A Not-Date And It's Way More Romantic Than He Intended
Author: Three
Prompt: Day 4 On a Date (30DOTPC)
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sabriel
Wordcount: 790 (I don't and won't apologize for any word counts…)
Warnings: Mild swearing (yes, I tag swearing. You don't care for that, you can suck it)

"Wanna go catch a movie?" Sam asked his angel while Bobby lectured Dean and Castiel.

"Actually, I have a better idea," Gabe said with a smirk before flying off with Sam.

There was a flutter of wings, and when they landed, Sam noticed that they were standing on a brightly lit street corner. A few blocks to their left was a canal, and behind them was a restaurant, with a sign that read 'Bloesem.'

"Welcome to Amsterdam, Sam-I-Am!" Gabriel said with a big flourish of his arms. "Current time, 8:54pm, and that," he said, pointing to Bloesem, "is where we are having dinner."

"Gabe, are we… are we on a date?" Sam continued to look around in amazement. He had never been to Amsterdam. Hell, he had never left the US, except for a few days when he was younger and the Winchesters had chased a werewolf into Canada, but that didn't count in his mind.

"Call it what you want. Shall we go in?" Gabriel said, opening the door. Sam walked into the dimly lit room and suddenly felt very self conscious of his faded red plaid button up and jeans that were getting too short. He ignored the stares from the other diners and subtly twined his and Gabriel's fingers together. A waiter came over to them within seconds.

When the man saw Gabriel, Sam could've sworn that the guy stood a little straighter, with a little more respect. Gabriel conversed with the man in rapid Dutch before they were led to a table set for two next to what appeared to be a wine bar.

Sam sat, back to the window, thinking. Were they on a date? Gabriel told him to call it whatever, so maybe it wasn't. He was broken out of his thoughts by Gabriel's thumb rubbing the back of his hand.

"Relax, Sam." Gabriel's soft words were enough to make Sam's shoulders visibly loosen.

"Goedenavond, adelstand*. Your wine, on the house," the waiter said in a heavy Dutch accent, placing a bottle and two glasses on the table. The wine was a golden brown**, much like Gabriel's‒ no. It's not a date, Sam tried to convince himself. It was just him and Gabriel having dinner, that's all. Yeah, just having dinner at a really nice place in fucking Amsterdam and you call that 'not a date'. Whatever, said another voice in Sam's head. He could've sworn it was Dean's.

"Ever had wine, Sammy?" Gabriel asked, startling him out of his thoughts.

"No, actually. We traveled a lot with our dad, so we could only afford cheap beer and essentials. And even after I left for Stanford it wasn't something I wanted to try," Sam explained sheepishly. Gabriel chuckled and shook his head. He poured a glass for Sam and himself, waiting for Sam to taste it.

Sam tentatively brought the glass to his lips and took a small sip. The strong taste of sweet fruit washed over his tongue, overloading his taste buds. The wine was amazing, and by the smile spread across Gabriel's face, he could tell that the archangel was pleased with his choice.

The restaurant, surprisingly, had no menu, but was chef's choice***. And not only was it chef's choice, but the chef had some pretty damn good choices. After about two hours of conversation and some rather good mushroom bok choy, duck risotto, and surprisingly delicious orange parsnips, the waiter returned with a two final plates, on which were rich chocolate lava cakes with raspberry sauce drizzled over the top. It was the best damn meal Sam had ever eaten in his lifetime, and (after telling himself dammit Sam it isn't a date once more) he was glad that it was with someone he loved.

After finishing their dessert and being told that it was 'on the house, adelstand' (adelstand, being, from Sam's limited Dutch vocabulary, the Dutch word for 'noblesse', the French word for 'nobility', obviously meaning that Gabriel was admired by the small Dutch restaurant), they decided to spend the night in Amsterdam, away from Bobby and whatever their brothers were up to (which was probably having sex, despite the lecture Bobby had given them when Sam and Gabriel left).

"Why did you keep saying that?" Gabriel whispered as they lay in bed that night. Sam rolled to face the angel, confusion etched across his face.

"Keep saying what?" Sam asked.

"I can read minds, ya know," Gabriel reminded him softly.

Oh. Oh. Sam tried to recall how many times he had thought it's not a date to himself that evening. "But you said‒"

"I know what I said. And I called it a date."

"Well," Sam started carefully, "I think we should go on dates more often."


*Dutch for 'Good evening, noblemen.'

**There is a term for white wine that is this color. Maderized, or cooked, wine is a light brown color, and usually means that it has been left in the heat for a while. While some say that the flavours and aromas become dulled, the author of the thing I read stated that they found it to be strong and sweet.

***Bloesem, the restaurant in this oneshot, is indeed chef's choice, as learned through extensive research on the place, and the reviews from tourists on TripAdvisor, all of whom described their meals (one of which I used), and complimented them, with not a single bad review.