#sabrielweek2013

It wasn't like Sam actually hated himself. He just...didn't think he was good enough for Gabriel. ...okay, maybe that counted as hating himself a little bit.

But really, why would an archangel ever choose him? Gabriel had had so many lovers in the past - Kali, Sigyn, and God knew who else - and he chose the boy with the demon blood as his next conquest?

Sam didn't understand. He was polluted and tainted, and he didn't deserve to have an archangel currently in his lap, who'd suddenly paused in the middle of whatever rant he was on now and staring at Sam in horror.

Wait...shit. Damn mind-reading archangels.

Gabriel twisted quickly in Sam's lap, eyes wide and hurt. "Sam, you don't honestly think that, do you?"

Sam flushed, dropping his gaze. "No idea what you mean," he denied without hesitation.

"Don't lie to me, I can hear it in that Cro-Magnon head of yours." Gabriel's eyebrows furrowed. "Why the hell do you think you're not good enough for me?"

Sam sputtered for a few moments, but decided to remain silent. If Gabriel could really hear his thoughts, then he would know why.

"Aw, Sammy, no," Gabriel said quietly at last, his voice cracking and drawing Sam's attention back to his face. To his shock, Gabriel's eyes were soft and fixed on his face. "It's me who's not good enough for you, you stupid moose. You-" His hands fluttered helplessly around Sam's shoulders for a few moments before grasping on tightly. "You have to believe me on that, Sam. You are good. Far too good for me, and I have no idea why you're still here, but you are and I'm just...I'm glad."

Sam stared at him, gaping in shock.

"Please say something," Gabriel said at last, biting his lip anxiously.

"¡Hola, mi amor!" Gabriel sang out as he appeared in the Winchester's motel room, dropping onto the bed to Sam.

Sam looked up at him, raising his eyebrows.  "Freshman Spanish, Gabriel.  Remember?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes.  "Well, that was your fault," he snorted, "I thought Spanish was supposed to be all the rage these days.  Besides, it's based on Latin."

Sam shrugged.  "What do you want, Gabriel?" he asked, turning back to the dusty scrolls spread out on his bed.  Speaking of Latin, he was nearly two-thirds through his current translation.

Gabriel pushed the scrolls aside and placed himself in front of Sam instead.  He waited until Sam met his eyes, then broke out into his usual wide, cheerful grin.

"Get dressed, Sammy, we're going out!" he announced in a sing-song voice.

"Gabriel, we're in the middle of a hunt," Sam tried to protest, but the angel wasn't having it.

"Remember when you met my dog?" the blond angel asked instead, "And you told me about how you wanted to play soccer and you're still a Real Madrid fan?"

"Yes?" Sam replied hesitantly, wondering where Gabriel was going with this.

The angel smirked.  "It just so happens I have a couple tickets to today's game," he told Sam, snapping the tickets--which Sam doubted the validity of--into existence.

"That's great," Sam told him sarcastically, but that doesn't really help much.  They play in Spain, remember?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes and fixed Sam with a pointed look.  It took a few moments, but finally Sam got the message.

"Oh," he said simply.

"Hang on tight!" Gabriel sang, raising his hand.

"To what?" Sam asked rhetorically just as Gabriel snapped.

When he blinked open his eyes, he and Gabriel were surrounded by a crowd decked out in white and blue.  Several were chanting "¡Hala Madrid!" and swaying to their own tune.  Sam's jaw dropped.  Finding his voice, he began, "You actually...?"

"Welcome to the Santiago Bernabeu, kiddo!" Gabriel announced in his usual grandiose manner, grinning at Sam.  Sam was sure he would have thrown his arms out to exaggerate his statement, but they were boxed in by the crowd--who, Sam suddenly realized, didn't seem bothered by their sudden appearance.

After a few moments, Gabriel snapped them up to their seats.  The game wouldn’t start for a few more minutes, but Sam's heart pounded as he recognized the players on the field.  He could see Mesut Özil and Cristiano Ronaldo standing with their heads bent together, and the man who was still his personal favorite--despite having cut off his own excessively long hair, Sergio Ramos, was stretching with the young French defender, Raphaël Varane, in their positions.  He would have liked to see Iker Casillas in goal, but he knew Diego López wouldn’t disappoint.

"Not so bad, is it Sammy?" Gabriel asked, grinning up at him.

"Thank you," Sam breathed, unable to express what he felt in words.  Instead he leaned in and kissed Gabriel firmly, feeling the archangel grin against his lips.