To be fair, Sam doesn’t know what he expected the first time he wakes up next to Gabriel.
Sam wakes first, unsurprisingly. He wakes the same way he always does; the same way everyone else does, he thinks - by giving himself a moment to adjust to the sensation, opening his eyes, then slowly climbing out of bed to take a shower. Today, though, he stops somewhere halfway through the getting out of bed process, because he remembers that the other side of his bed is filled with a still-snoozing ex-Trickster.
Sam remembers finding him the previous night in the kitchen when he got up to get some water at one o'clock in the morning. Gabriel hadn’t even been doing anything, just sitting at the table and staring out of the window, watching a shooting star which reminded them both all too much of the time the angels fell.
Sam hadn’t even said anything. He’d just pulled Gabriel to his feet, led him to his bedroom and tucked him in, draping an arm comfortingly over his waist, soothing him to sleep.
And now it’s midmorning, and here they are.
The first time Gabriel opens his eyes, he squints, shakes his head a little to bring a curtain of hair over his eyes to block out the sunlight, and closes them again. Within seconds, he’s gone back to sleep.
The second time he wakes up, Sam says, “Good morning, sleepyhead,” and ruffles his hair.
“No,” Gabriel insists, in a small, petulant child voice. He buries his head in the pillow and goes back to sleep.
The third time Gabriel opens his eyes, he tries to fight Sam. It’s not really Sam’s fault. Gabriel’s the one who moves away, attempting to drag all the sheets and blankets with him. Sam tries to resist, first accidentally because he’s lying on them, and then on purpose because he’s not wearing a shirt and it’s actually really damn cold this morning. Gabriel wrestles with him, squeezing his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to deal with being awake, batting Sam’s hands away from the sheets, eventually reigning triumphant and balling himself up inside all the covers like a tiny archangel burrito.
The fourth time Gabriel opens his eyes, he growls - literally growls, like a cat. He rubs his eyes and wriggles around in the bed, and Sam wants to reach out and touch him, but he’s a little scared.
Gabriel turns his head towards Sam and gives him a genuinely furious look, huffing in annoyance at his very existence, before turning back to where he was, mumbling something about ‘stupid sleep why do humans do this’, and then dropping back off.
The fifth time Gabriel opens his eyes, he rolls over. Sam is propped against the headboard by this point, pretending to read a book, but really just watching Gabriel, his eyes soft over the pages and his mouth crinkled into a smile. “Hey there,” he whispers, once it looks like Gabriel isn’t going to go back to sleep this time, or to attack him.
Gabriel’s lips part and he blinks up at Sam like he’s struggling to reconcile his mental picture of what he should be seeing right now with what he’s actually seeing.
“What are you doing here?” he asks in a tiny, wavering voice.
Sam chuckles. “This is my room. I sleep here every night. What are you doing here is the real question,” he teases.
“Sorry. I can go,” Gabriel says, and he gathers up a blanket to his chest despite the fact that he’s already snug in a pair of Sam’s pajamas, and folornly starts to shuffle out of the room.
“No!” Sam shouts, too loud for so early in the morning, quickly stopping him. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. Please, come back and lie down for a bit.” He’s not usually one for staying in bed for a long time in the mornings, but he thinks that he might feel differently if he could see Gabriel smile.
Gabriel pauses, looking unsure, but then nods, crawling back onto the bed and snuggling up into Sam’s side, his head on Sam’s shoulder.
Gabriel doesn’t speak for a while, but after a couple of minutes’ comfortable silence, he says, “Thought I dreamed you.”
“Nope. I may be dreamy, but I am real.”
“Sounds like something I’d say,” Gabriel pouts, and yeah, maybe the guy’s started to rub off on Sam since he moved into the bunker.
Sam doesn’t deny it, just says, “You’re cute in the mornings.”
“'Mnot.” Gabriel pulls a face and shakes his head at Sam, poking his cheek.
Sam smiles. “You are. And it’s a good thing too.”
“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” Gabriel mumbles into the junction of Sam’s neck.
“Because it means I want to see it again tomorrow morning.”
