Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Kripke and his posse of evil.

AN: Righto, folks, this is where the slash begins! *swoons* I've been planning this chapter since I first thought of this fic. It's cliché, I know, but eep! *swoons again*

Six minutes in Heaven...one minute in Hell.

When Sam stepped into Ruby's house, Gabriel in tow, he had to take a deep breath. What he saw wasn't exactly unexpected, but rather a little overwhelming.

Sure, Sam had used a fake ID to get into various college parties and bars if it would help with a case, and those had been pretty wild – but that was a job, and he didn't join in.

This was different: at this party, he had his best friend all but clinging on to his arm and looking like he wasn't having a good time at all, and a girl who – according to Gabriel – wanted to get with Sam. All that combined with too much alcohol led to a night that was somewhat stressful.

Sam wasn't much of a drinker, despite the rest of his family practically depending on it to function, but he wasn't tee-total either. So, yeah, okay, maybe he was drinking a little too much at this party, but he knew how to handle himself, and was still aware of reality, if only vaguely.

That didn't explain how he'd ended up in the circle of people playing spin the bottle like a bunch of 6th graders, though.

Instead of the usual 'kiss-the-person-the-bottle-lands-on' game, Ruby's game was a little different. She would offer the 'victim' a choice: 'dare or dare?'

"Hmm, I wonder. It's a toughie," said the guy next to Sam – someone whose name he didn't know. "Can I phone a friend?"

The circle laughed. Things like that were much funnier when you've had something to drink.

"Dare."

"Okay," Ruby said, languishing over her idea. She put a finger to her chin in mock thought, though it was clear by the glint in her eyes that she'd already thought of a suitable torture.

It was obvious that she was master of this game, and nobody could take that away from her.

Sam's turn to be landed on came too quickly – he wasn't sure he was ready for whatever Ruby had in store for him; even less sure with the look she gave him.

"Alright Sam, dare or dare?"

"Not as though I have much of a choice, so," he sighed, accepting his fate. "Dare."

"Hmm," she said, mulling over – or appearing to mull over – options in her head. Sam bit his lip. Whatever she came up with, it sure as hell wasn't going to be fun. "What kind of dare should I give Sam Wesson? I know…"

Sam gulped.

"You have to take a spin," she gestured to the bottle. "…And whoever it lands on, you have to do seven minutes in heaven with."

A series of whoops and cheers went round the circle. Sam blushed violently, but, having lost rational thought and the power of sensible decision making, reached over to spin the bottle to many cheers. Sam watched Ruby watch it spin – she was glaring at it as though she was willing it to stop in a particular place. It spun for a long time, Sam obviously having spun it rather vigorously.

It finally slowed, reluctantly completing one more cycle, all the way, past Ruby, almost back to point at Sam, but instead coming to a rest to the person next to him.

Pointed right at Gabriel.

Who immediately went bright red.

Sam suddenly felt the odd sensation of being wrapped up in a giant, horrible cliché, when he felt maybe a half dozen hands pulling him up. There were cheers and wolf-whistles, and he saw Ruby grinning to his left.

"Calm down, Sammy," – he bit back a growl; that was not okay – " You don't have to do anything," she said with a smile. She may have said that but the expression on her face made it clear that she meant: 'I want you to do something.'

He was sure the room was spinning. Having alcohol in your system was okay when you were walking, when you were in control of your body, but when other people were pulling you somewhere, it was totally not cool. Sam was feeling like he wanted to fall asleep and throw up at the same time.

There was nothing wrong with this particular game – maybe it was a little overdone, but it was something Sam used to take particular delight in; way back in middle school, but still. To get a cute girl to do 'Seven Minutes in Heaven' was the epitome of awesome for a twelve year old. But with a guy? That wasn't exactly in Sam's realm of experience and nor did he particularly want to make it so.

But Gabriel? Maybe that was a different matter. Gabriel'd turn it into a joke; he'd make Sam laugh and he'd still make it awesome, just because he was Gabriel, and he'd really try to not make it awkward. Sam didn't know what it was – he'd tell himself later that it was the alcohol - but he briefly wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

Before Sam knew it, he was being manhandled into a closet, with shelves surrounding him on every side. He watched with a certain reverence as Gabriel was forced into the closet too – there had been enough room Sam on his own, but with another person in there, small as he may have been, it was a tight fit. They both turned to watch the door close behind them, last slivers of light disappearing, along with the laughter on the other side of the door and any chance of freedom.

They were thrust into darkness and silence, the only sound their own heavy breathing. Neither of them could really move much, shelves pressing into their backs if they tried to. They stood there in silence for a moment, chests flush, when Sam felt Gabriel's move in a silent laugh.

It wasn't long before Sam was laughing too, so relieved that this wasn't going to be as incredibly awkward as he'd thought.

"This is so stupid," Sam whispered eventually, letting his laughter die down. He wasn't sure if people were listening on the other side of the door or not – still, it seemed appropriate to whisper.

He could practically hear Gabriel grinning. "Yeah, trust Ruby to be this immature." He shifted, having to relieve an itch on his neck. Gabriel was warm, and this close, in the tiny little closet, at this party which was well-heated anyway, Sam was beginning to feel pretty damn uncomfortable in this closet. He pulled on the collar of his shirt in a vain attempt to fan himself.

"Warm in here," he said uselessly, not wanting there to be silence for very long.

"Yep," Gabriel replied, chest beginning to shake with laughter again.

"What's so funny?"

He shifted again, and if Sam had been able to see, Gabe would have had that crinkly-eyed smile on his face that meant he thought Sam was being amusing. "Sam, you know," Gabriel shook his head. "It doesn't have to be stupid."

Sam frowned in confusion; that wasn't much of an answer. "Huh?" he asked, but it was sort of an aborted sound, because in that instant he felt Gabriel's warm palm on his arm.

Sam's body was suddenly in panic mode. His heart rate went sky high, and his eyes popped open. Gabriel was really going to do this. The touch on his arm was tender, electric – and it scared the living crap out of Sam. Everything Sam had been pre-programmed with was saying no, telling Sam's arms to push Gabriel away, or to shrug off the hand that had now reached his shoulder. The only thing was, Sam's arms refused to listen.

Maybe it was because of some sort of morbid curiosity that Sam didn't pull away; or maybe he was scared beyond moving. Either way, Gabriel was closer now, if that was possible, and Sam felt himself subconsciously settling into his touch.

"I don't know if you're drunk enough to do this, but…" Gabriel said, barely a whisper. His hand, somehow, had made its way up to Sam's neck, and was settled there, too hot and too much. Still, Sam didn't stop him – not even when the hand put slight pressure to pull him downwards. In fact, for some reason, Sam followed willingly.

Sam could feel Gabriel's breath on his lips now, warm and inviting and smelling like liqourice. His eyes fell closed.

"Just stop me," he muttered, and Sam could feel the words against his own lips. His breath caught in his throat, jarring like it was his last. Before he knew it, he felt the soft press of Gabriel's lips on his, warm and chaste.

By now, Sam's heart was practically ready to beat out of his chest. Kissing Gabriel, he soon realized, was something he should have been doing a long time ago, because even the lightest touch of lips from him was addictive. Sam surprised both Gabriel and himself by chasing his lips when he tried to break away.

When he did pull away, there was nothing but the sound of heavy breathing in the room, and the feel of each other's breaths, warm and heavy in the air, pressing close.

Gabriel's other hand was on the shelving near Sam's hip, effectively trapping him. "Oh, God, Sammy…stop me," he repeated, lunging forward again and capturing Sam's lips in another kiss, this one deeper and more desperate.

Sam didn't panic this time, though his heart was still beating like a wild horse. When Gabriel's tongue tentatively brushed against Sam's lips, he welcomed it. Sam didn't want to stop him, not at all. The kiss was far from perfect, all hot tongues too nervous to really brush against each other, slight clash of teeth, but it was perfect, because it was Gabriel, and Sam couldn't imagine doing this with anyone else – not any guy, at least.

There was a loud giggle on the other side of the door, and several insistent knocks, which told them their seven minutes were up. Reluctantly, Gabriel pulled away, and reached up with the hand that had been on Sam's neck to ruffle his hair. "Be cool, okay?" he mumbled. Sam just nodded.

The door opened and light poured in, hurting Sam's eyes. Reality hit him as the light did, almost like a battering ram.

"Who's next ladies?" Gabriel called, and Sam knew he'd be smirking as he leant coolly against the door frame, even though he couldn't see his face. It was all a little bit of a blur, and he heard the giggles and rushes of a handful of girls towards Gabriel as though from underwater.

As he managed to somehow slip out of the closet unnoticed, one thought ran through his mind on repeat.

What the hell did I just do?