okay, I had to write something for this, just a short little thing, I hope you don’t mind, anon. Because this one cut deep, man.
Gabriel would easily say he knew everything about his best friend Sam Winchester. Everything.
He knows how Sam liked his coffee, and his favorite sandwich, and what he’s like at various stages of drunkenness. He knows where Sam grew up, the issues he struggled with, his fears, and his dreams. Gabriel knows that Sam doesn’t like his hair mussed but is okay with it being stroked gently sometimes. Gabriel knows how to find just about everything in Sam’s apartment; he knows how to care for Bones, world’s most adorable golden retriever, without so much as a note; he knows what to get Sam for Christmas without ever having to ask.
Gabriel knows what the doodles on the edges of Sam’s notepads mean. He knows Sam’s shirt size and his shampoo of choice. He knows what kind of girl Sam goes for (short and blonde and playful) and how nervous Sam gets before first dates. He knows what Sam’s lips feel like, because once Sam had gotten very drunk and kissed his cheek. He knows Sam’s favorite movies and why he likes them and what kind of candy to get for them at the theater.
So he’s frankly a little offended when a drunken Charlie laughs and tells him he doesn’t know shit about Sam Winchester.
"I’m sorry, what?”
"I’m sorry, Gabey," she slurs, "but I know a few things about Sam that you apparently didn’t pick up on."
"Oh yeah? Prove it." The only way to get drunk Charlie to tell him anything is to make it a challenge.
"Sam is bi," she announces. "He goes for the ladies, but he’s totally into guys too."
"And…" Charlie leans in close like she doesn’t want anyone to hear, even though it’s Gabriel’s apartment and they’re the only ones there. The walls are thin and shitty, but they’re not that thin and shitty.
Charlie, satisfied that they’re alone, drunk-whispers, “He had a huge crush on you when you guys first started hanging out.”
Gabriel frowns. “Please. You’ve just got the shipper goggles on again.”
"No, really,” she insists. “It went on for almost a year. He told me and Dean everything about you and we eventually sat him down and were like, dude. Because it was that obvious.”
There’s a pause as Gabriel tries to digest this information, blinking in confusion. “Well, then what?”
Charlie tilts her head. “He figured out that you weren’t into him and got over it. Started dating girls again.” She scrunches up her face, an expression she only makes while drunk. “You can’t tell him I told you this, you know that?”
God, Gabriel had thought he’d known something about Sam. He’d thought he’d understood when Sam had spouted something about ‘not really looking for a girlfriend right now’ because hey, the guy had needed time to move on, right? That was why he hadn’t dated anyone for so long, even when the oppurtunity presented itself? That was why he’d instead hung out at Gabriel’s and gone to the movies with Gabriel and fallen asleep on the couch with Gabriel and asked Gabriel to walk with him and get coffee from a few blocks away and-
"Charlie, I think you should go back downstairs. Home. You’re, uh… reaching that stage of drunk where bed is the best option."
She considers. “You just hate that I knew something you didn’t. But yeah, it’s late.”
Charlie’s safe in her apartment two floors down, and Gabriel’s lying in bed on his back with his eyes wide open to take in the darkness. Sam had liked him years ago and he hadn’t even realized it and he’d… missed his shot. He’d never thought about going out with Sam in a romantic way, because Sam wasn’t looking for girlfriend because Sam was looking for him, looking for short and blond and-
His phone vibrates and a burst of blue light appears on the ceiling- a text from Sam. *Hey, hope you and Charlie had fun. Still wanna go for run + donuts tomorrow?*
Gabriel rolls over to his side, letting one arm dangle off the bed, and drops the phone without replying so he doesn’t have to look at Sam’s contact picture. He purposefully doesn’t think about what he’s realized for a minute because please let him be wrong about this dear god, but… his own emotions make sense now. He loves Sam. He has always loved Sam. Gabriel flops to his back again, head hitting the pillow, and gazes at the ceiling with a new awareness.